


Music To Cast Love Spells By

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Spell Trouble [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy once threw Brock's clothes out a window, F/M, Fallon Rumlow is a dorm manager so I'm envisioning background drunk college student antics, Is Darcy ever going to buy those candles?, Kinda my version of a Valentine, Past fake relationship (sorta), Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: It's difficult to start dating again when you're a former SHIELD triple agent with lots of secrets and even more scars, so Brock Rumlow's little sister is going to help him with a little teensy love spell. Just a small one, very ethical.It's totally a coincidence that his favorite fake ex-wife is back in DC with Jane Foster, right?





	1. A Spiritual Blanket of Loving Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

“I need a favor, Fal,” Brock said into the telephone. He was sitting at his kitchen table that night, eating alone, when he got the idea to call his little sister Fallon in New York.

“A favor?” she said. “What kind of favor?”

“Can you read my cards over the telephone?” he asked quietly.  She was working at NYU as a dorm manager, but dabbling in, well, hippie culture. Some online seminar with a chick called--of all things--Gala Darling had gotten her into tarot. He thought it was mostly harmless stuff, but it was hard for him to be indifferent. The first time he’d seen her pull out a tarot deck had had brought back a lot of emotional shit for Brock.

“You want me to read your cards?” Fallon said, dumbfounded. “You don’t believe in tarot.” He had a weird aversion to her New Age stuff that Fallon didn’t understand. Brock had always been so supportive of quirky hobbies. He had lots of his own--he liked gadgets, cars, even had a set of rare comic books--and wasn’t judgemental.

“I just want to hear what they say. If you can,” he said. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind about the cards.”

“Is there something you want?” she asked quietly. She’d already reached for her favorite deck.

“No,” he said. He was lying. She could always tell when Brock lied. How he’d done covert-ish work for SHIELD for _years_ and even been a double agent embedded in HYDRA for eight months was a vast mystery to her. Was she the only one who saw it? Probably. You always knew your sibling. She’d even recognized him on the news when he was play-acting at being a mercenary. Mask or no mask, burns or no burns, he still talked and walked like himself. She’d discovered eventually that he was secretly stealing back things for that one-eyed guy she’d caught lurking in his hospital room after the building collapse. Someone powerful and important at SHIELD, according to Brock. She was to forget she ever saw him. That was a few days before her brother had busted out of the hospital and become Crossbones. Now he was partially healed and had a pardon from President Ellis for valuable service to the nation. His record had been wiped clean and he was back in DC. The yutz who’d eaten her Halloween candy and put a frog in her bed once.

“You’re in luck, I charged the deck today,” she said.

“Charged it?” he said.

“With my crystals. I’m very into those now,” she said. It was exactly the kind of thing he hated. Tarot, crystals, yoga, reiki healing. She thought he might benefit from massage and moxibustion, but he’d never listen. Now he wanted his cards read?

“Just don’t take any weird Chinese supplements, okay? I know you like this New Age stuff, but I saw a thing on _60 Minutes--_ ” he said protectively.

“You are an Old now,” she told him. “Only the extremely elderly watch _60 Minutes._ I bet you even watched it on a television,” she said gleefully. She knew about the dodgy supplements.

“Where else would I watch it?” he asked.

“On a laptop, beloved doofus,” Fallon told him. She shuffled her deck. “Is there a question you want answered?” she asked. “Seriously. It’s better if I have a question.”

“I want to know if the time is right,” he said. “To, uh--” He paused for a minute. “Start dating again?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You’ll be fine. I don’t even need to read the cards. Any available woman will think the scars are gnarly or something,” she said. “You’re my brother and even I can still see the cute.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. He sighed.

“C’mon, it’s obvious. Look at the media. Scarred men have it way easier than scarred women, you know that. Women don’t judge men the way you judge us--” she began.

“Fal, you’re my favorite sister, but you drove everyone crazy with the gender studies stuff at Thanksgiving. Aunt Marie left the table in tears,” he said.

“I’m your only sister,” she pointed out. “Also, I’m concerned that you go too deep into things, as a general rule and maybe you should lighten up, you need love and joy--”

“Excuse me, you started with yoga and now you’re a fortune teller, kiddo,” he interjected defensively. “It’s a family trait. What’s next, spells?”

“Actually--” she began.

“Fal,” he said. “Fal.”

“You can’t tell Ma, she’d die and call an exorcist, but I could craft you a love spell,” she said.

“I’m not letting you put some poor woman’s fingernails into a cauldron,” he said.

“Please, it’s not like that. The spell is designed to bring loving energy into your life. Just energy. It’s not specific or designed for a particular woman,” Fallon said. “I burn some incense, I use my crystals, I ask the universe to bring you some good vibes. It’s like being wrapped in a spiritual blanket of loving kindness, Bro-Bro.”

“Oh,” he said. There was a momentary pause. He cleared his throat. “Do it.” His voice was definitive.

“Really?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not about the scars, really. I’m just having trouble getting over, uh, stuff. But I, uh, I want to meet somebody,” Brock said.

“Finally!” Fallon said.

“Be quiet,” he grumbled.

“Yasssss queen,” Fallon said, clasping her hands towards the goddess altar she kept in the corner of her bedroom. She had a statute of Hathor especially dedicated to her efforts for her brother--the Egyptian goddess of love and joy. He was too grim dark now. He even wore black all the time, like a Disney villain.

“What?” he said. “I swear to God, I don’t understand half the things you say--”

“It’ll be okay. I’mma get my rose quartz together and write down some intentions for you,” Fallon said. “You just wait, everything’ll be apples.”

“Do you have to borrow the most annoying phrases from Aussie Jack?” Brock said. Brock’s fellow ex-undercover agent was secretly Australian. Now, less secretly.

“Yes, because the whole family loves Aussie Jack. Ma wants you to bring him up here sometime,” Fallon said.

“Great,” he said.

“I think she wants to marry him, Bro-Bro,” Fallon said. Their mother had been widowed several years before.

“Bite your tongue,” Brock said. “Aussie Jack will not be our stepfather.”

“You say that now,” Fallon teased.

 

Still, when they hung up, she immediately got her rose quartz crystals and a red candle and set about writing down an intention for him.

 

***

 

The next day, Brock was having coffee in the break room when Sharon Carter entered. “Hi, Rumlow,” she said. Carter was running STRIKE Echo now.

“Hi, Carter,” he said. No time like the present, Brock thought. He’d felt some flickers of chemistry with Carter during the whole mess and thought there might be something there. She was attractive, gifted, intelligent, a brave agent. “How was your weekend?” he asked politely.

“Pretty quiet. You?”

“Ran those joint field exercises with the FBI team,” he said.

“They go good?” she said.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, inadvertently touching his burned ear. It was a new nervous tic. “I was, uh, wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?” he asked quietly. Sharon’s face went a little funny. She paled.

“Umm, Rumlow,” she stuttered.

“It’s okay,” Brock said quickly. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

“No, I, uh, I’m seeing Captain Rogers,” Sharon explained. Her eyes were wide. “There’s nothing wrong with you asking--” She looked a little panicky. Brock grinned wryly.

“Cap has all the luck,” he said. “It’s okay, Carter.”

 

He left the break room feeling like his boots were made of lead. So much for magic, he thought.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work title inspired by this awesome playlist--go have a listen, it's AMAZING---from the Hoodwitch: http://www.thehoodwitch.com/blog/2017/2/14/music-to-cast-love-spells-by


	2. Bad Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

“What are we doing?” Jane said to Darcy. They were in an open-air shopping center in DC and Darcy was browsing the candles at a bath store.  

“Buying candles. I want to charge my necklace like an amulet,” Darcy said. “Why don’t you go look at wine at the World Market next door?”

“Sure,” Jane said. Jane didn’t believe in Darcy’s casual energy work, so Darcy usually shooed her off. Darcy’s grandmother in North Carolina had sent her a family heirloom of sorts: one of the rings her grandpa’d given her grandmother, a vertical marquise design with a few tiny chip diamonds. Because it was too big for her fingers, Darcy was currently wearing it as a necklace. When they settled, she’d have it resized, but she wanted to add an element of energy to it now. Some people bought candles designed particularly for energy work, but Darcy was a scentaholic, so she picked for scent and color from whatever stores were available. She knew it was about intention, her intention, not the store. She wanted passionate energy, though, so she was looking for a good-scented burgundy or red candle. Red was for passion and purple was for protection. Darcy was aiming for a combination of both. She and Ian had recently ended things--for what Darcy swore was the absolute last time--and she wanted someone new. Out with the old. She picked up a merlot scented candle and sniffed. The color was right, but she wanted the scent to be sweeter.

 

***

Jane had picked up a bottle of fizzy vinho verde that Darcy liked and put it in the cart when she almost ran into a man with his back to her. “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was distracted by the wine.” He turned.

“Jane?” he said.

“Brock,” she said in recognition. He was still recognizable, despite the burns. She hugged him. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“I moved into the neighborhood a few months ago. Are you back in DC?” he asked politely. Before the HYDRA Uprising, he had been her full-time SHIELD protection agent for several months.

“Yeah, Thor and I are back together and he’s moving between here and New York, so I just accepted some lab space at the new headquarters last week,” she said.

“Great,” he said. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“You’re still with SHIELD, right?” she asked.

“I legitimately only run Alpha now,” he said. “It’s nice, not having to keep it all straight in my head.” He smiled.

“I bet so,” Jane said. She’d heard that he’d been informing on HYDRA for Fury while he was her security guard and generally trying to guard her and Darcy from outside and inside threats. He’d been reassigned once Thor and Jane reunited and they left for Norway. The HYDRA Uprising had happened and somehow that had ended with him doing more undercover work as a fake mercenary  to steal back SHIELD tech hidden all over the world? Thor had told her. It all sounded very complex and dangerous.

“How’s Darcy?” he asked quietly. “I heard she and Ian got married.”

“Oh no, they didn’t,” Jane said. “The wedding was called off, she’s still working for me and everything. Darcy’s in the Bath and Body Works next door.”

“What?” he said. Jane thought he sounded shocked--and maybe a little bit pleased?

“She’s actually buying candles,” Jane said. “Doing her witchy stuff.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You know, my sister’s into that now? It’s very popular. Darcy was ahead of the curve.”

“I know! It’s the wildest thing, right?” Jane said. “Did you see that big media story about a coven coming together to create positive energy during the last presidential transition? They did a drum circle in Central Park and CNN had a bunch of twenty-somethings talking about the energy of the universe and then CNN had Neil Degrasse Tyson on to call it hokum?” He laughed.

“What did Darcy say?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“That Tyson is a buzzkill who doesn’t understand the psychological benefits of spirituality and engagement with the divine,” Jane said.

“Sounds like her,” he said. He rubbed his neck and pulled a face. “Listen, will you tell my fake ex-wife that I wish I’d been able to be more honest with her back then? I know she probably can’t stand the sight of me now--”

“That’s not true, she gets it,” Jane said. “Everything was difficult back then: Thor and I had just broken up, she had to lie to Ian, you were pretending to be married to one another for SHIELD--”

“Jane, when I was recalled, she threw my clothes out of the window,” he pointed out. When his undercover job as Jane’s 24/7 live-in security--in the guise of being Darcy’s husband--had ended things had gotten messy. He wasn’t sure if Jane knew everything. Or had heard everything. Through the walls.

“I think that was just her playing a role, you know? Pretending to be the pissed off wife?” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” he said wryly. He and Darcy had been fucking like rabbits for the last two months. They’d once broken the damn bed. He’d loved every minute.

“It was my fault,” he told Jane. “I could have handled things differently.” He’d left abruptly to covertly inform on Pierce for Fury. Broken things off brusquely, since he couldn’t tell her the truth. That had been difficult. But it was for her safety.

 

***

Brock stepped into the busy store and looked around. He felt conspicuous. Where was she? He spotted Darcy standing in front of a shelf of candles and began moving towards her. He got a few feet away from her when a child--being pushed in an umbrella stroller--started to scream. “Bad man! Bad man!” he shrieked, pointing at Brock.

“I am so sorry,” his mother said. “So sorry! Kayden, shh!” The mother looked absolutely mortified.

“It’s okay,” Brock said. “Really.” When he looked back, Darcy had turned.

“Brock?” she said. She looked a little stunned.

“Hey, Darcy,” he said. Smooth, real smooth, he thought.

“I am so sorry--” the mother was still saying. The little boy had started to cry.

“It’s perfectly okay,” Brock said calmly. “Happens all the time. You’re okay, buddy,” he said to the child. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just going to go talk to my friend over there.” He gestured to Darcy. The child sniffled and stared, suddenly silent. His face was all red.

“Friend, that’s all I get?” Darcy said. To his his complete and utter surprise, she leaned up and hugged him. Unused to hugs, he froze.

“Sorry,” he said reflexively. “Fake ex-wife?”

“Favorite fake ex-wife?” she challenged. Her voice was soft in his ear.

“No other fake ex-wife has ever thrown my clothes out the window,” he said back.

“I hope not,” she said, detaching herself from him. He immediately missed her touch. “Are--are you doing okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty much. I saw Jane--we’re going to be coworkers?”

“Yup,” she said. “I’m buying candles.”

“Fallon’s into that now,” he said. “My sister.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. There was an awkward pause. They both looked away. God, she was still so beautiful, he thought. Had she gotten even more voluptuous and feminine since the last time he’d seen her? He blinked. She was wearing a t-shirt under her cardigan that was cut low and read, _Coffee, Coffee, Coffee, Everyone Shut Up._ He realized she had probably caught him eyeing her tits and grinned.

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“For what?” Darcy asked.

“Thinking about you naked,” he said.

“Yeah, you haven’t changed, womanizer Rambo,” she joked, playfully swatting him. “How many other secret fake wives you got now?”

“Just you,” he said. “I, uh, thought you’d be mad at me?”

“Thor talks to me,” Darcy said. “I know about the undercover stuff. I’m sorry I threw all your nice suits out the window.”

“Not a big deal,” he said.

“Well, I’m sorry now, I wasn’t sorry then,” she clarified. He smirked at her.

"You look great," he said, wishing he could take it back as soon as he said it.

"So do you," she said, softly flushing. "Really great."

"Yeah, right," he said sarcastically, reflexively touching his ear. Darcy frowned.

"I'm serious. When, um, everything happened, Clint called us in Norway and there was a week or so when I thought--" she began.

"I didn't make it," he said. She nodded.

"Then I was very confused to when it looked like you and Steve were trying to kill each other all over the world," Darcy said. "You were robbing banks!" 

"That was fun," he admitted.

"Fun? Fun?!" Darcy said.

"They just give you things out of the vaults, it's like free shopping," he joked. "I got some Chitauri guns that looked like kids' toys. I shipped 'em back to Fury labeled like they were those Nerf Super-Soakers, you'd have loved it." Darcy grinned at him.

"Oh em gee, Brock!" she said. "You were a gun smuggler."

"And other things," he said wryly.

They were still talking when Jane entered the store. Behind them, the scientist cleared her throat. “Uh, Darce?” she said gently. “I don’t want to interrupt, but we’ve got that appointment with the cable guy?”

“Oh, you gotta leave now or any time from now to five hours from now,” Brock joked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, grinning back at him. “It was good to see you, Brock.”

“Good to see you, too,” he said. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then wondered why he’d done it. Before they left the store, Darcy gave him a sweet little wave. He waved back, then wondered why the hell he was standing in a Bath and Body Works.

 

 

***

“So,” Jane said, as they crossed the parking lot, “did that love spell just get very, very specific or what?”

“Noooo,” Darcy said. “That’s totally bad magickal ethics, you ask for general love, you don’t make it about a specific person, that’s coercive.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “Bummer.”

“Why would you suggest that?” Darcy said sharply.

“You could date him for real now,” Jane said, as they got in the car. “Now that you and Ian are done.” Jane had no idea about the sexual affair she’d had with Brock. Darcy repressed a sigh. She had cheated on Ian with Brock. Jane thought they’d been play-acting, but they had gone Method. Totally naked, sweaty, full Method. The closest Darcy had come to telling Jane was a drunken confession that she felt guilty for agreeing to pretend to be a couple behind Ian’s back and for the kissing and affectionate behavior they’d done in front of Jane.

“Jane, you know how I feel about that situation,” Darcy said. She thought that had messed up her karma for awhile and that bad karma had probably wrecked her relationship with Ian. “Besides, I bet Agent Hot and Ready has a line of women out the door.”

“Hot and Ready?” Jane said.

“That was his nickname back in the day,” Darcy said.

“It was?” Jane said, frowning. Darcy nodded. It still counted if Darcy’d given him the moniker herself, right? “I still don’t understand why you feel so guilty, SHIELD made you do it,” Jane said.

“SHIELD didn’t make me enjoy it,” Darcy muttered.

“You still would, though. Even with the burns. I saw the both of you,” Jane said.

“What?”

“You licked your lips, he licked his lips. You were mimicking each other’s body language,” Jane said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. They lapsed into silence.

“It would never work. Like I said, he’s probably not single. And I have no idea if he even likes me that much,” Darcy said.

“Yeah, right, Miss Love Spell,” Jane said sarcastically.

“Shit,” Darcy said.

“What?” Jane said.

“I forgot to get any candles,” Darcy said.

 

 


	3. Slightly Less Ethical Forms of Magick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are fantastic!

Fallon called him at work. “Any good news to share?” she asked Brock.

“No,” he said glumly.

“What’s wrong?” Fallon asked.

“I can’t talk about it now, I’m at work,” he said quietly.

“Send me an email,” Fallon said. She used her dorm manager voice.

“No, Fal, I don’t—what the hell is that?” Brock said. There had been a large crash on the other end.

“One of the first years just skateboarded into the vending machine in the hallway, I’m going to see if he needs stitches,” Fallon said. “Send me an email. Or a text. You know about those, right? Or are you too old?”

“I’m not a hundred,” he groused.

“Then send me a text, idiot.”

“Fine,” Brock said as she hung up.

 

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _Fal,_ _I got shot down by a coworker when I asked her out. Fucking sucked. Then, I ran into a girl I had a thing with a couple of years ago, but I ended things when I got put on undercover work. Hadn’t seen her since all the shit went down, you know? She’s still fucking gorgeous, I look like shit now. And I can tell because she’s too nice for how I dumped her._

Ten minutes or so later, Fallon replied.

 **That Fal at NYU:**   _Bummer about the no, but you gotta keep asking or you won’t get the yes you want. Stay positive. Just how pretty is this other mystery girl that you’re still carrying a torch? Also, nobody starts a text with a name. This is not a letter. Tell me about mystery girl._

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _No._

A few seconds later, one word popped up after the text alert noise.

 **That Fal at NYU:**   _chickenshit._

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _Shut up._

 **That Fal at NYU:** _[emojis]_

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _Is that a fucking shit emoji next to a chicken?_

 **That Fal at NYU:** _if you have to ask…._

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _I’m not carrying a torch. But here’s her Insta. [link]_

A typing bubble appeared, then a sentence:

 **That Fal at NYU:** _Holy shit, Brock. She’s a babe. You dated her?_

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _Yeah._ _Sorta. It was an affair, maybe? She was engaged to someone else, but she’s single now and we’re working together. How’s the skateboarder?_

The reply came quickly.

 **That Fal at NYU:** _You dog! You should be ashamed. Sitting_ _under an ice pack at Student Health, so they can check it out. Third indoor injury this week. I hate this cold snap. She was engaged?!_

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _I’m 40% ashamed, 60% happy I had the good sex when I had the chance, ‘cause it ain’t happening with her now. I really messed that up._

 **That Fal at NYU:** _Eww, overshaaaaaaare. It’s bad enough that I have hear all the undergrad hookup drama._

He was surprised when she kept typing and sighed gently when he read her message.

 **That Fal at NYU:** _Ask this World’s Okayest Assistant out, you goof. Her social media is funny. I could tolerate her at holidays and I think she’d make you get a dog. You need a dog._

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, SHIELD:** _No fucking way, Fal. I can’t._

 

***

 

“I don’t want to do something unethical, but I can tell he’s still hung up on her and is afraid to ask her out,” Fallon told her friend Erin. They’d met at a crystal event and now did their supply shopping together. “I’m going to try and get them together, give it a push.”

“You want to _direct_ a love spell?” Erin said, looking up from the shelf of candles. “What if it goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” Fallon said stubbornly. “I just want what’s best for him.” She stared at a photo of a grinning Darcy with a chocolate lab she’d met at a coffee shop. Fallon smiled at her phone screen. Darcy was nice, Fallon could tell. And single, if her Instagram was any sign. She’d added cute tags: #puppylove #mynewboyfriend #hisnameisHershey #coffeeruncutie #thattailwagtho

“Fallon,” Erin said, “this will totally screw up your karma.”

“I can take the hit,” Fal insisted. She loved her stupid brother. For him, she would willingly incur karmic injury. "Anyway, it's not _for_ me, so hopefully it's just slightly less ethical, right?" she mused.

"Ooookay," Erin said doubtfully.

"This will work, I swear to Isis," Fal said. She left Erin in the shop and went home. She lit red candles on her altar and pulled up the image of Darcy on her phone. “Shit,” she muttered, “I hope I don’t screw this up.”

 

***

Darcy woke up feeling strangely well-rested. She picked her head up and looked at her phone. Was she late for work? “Nope,” she said out loud. How funny, she thought, getting up and drifting over to her kitchen coffee machine. She brewed a dark roast and called Jane. “Are we carpooling?” she asked.

“Hgghh?” Jane said. “Whaaa?”

“Are you okay?” Darcy asked. There was a long silence.

“Darce, it’s 6:14am,” Jane said finally. “Call me in an hour,” she muttered, hanging up. Darcy decided to paint her nails and wear her favorite earrings: a pair of dangling silver birds. Three cups of coffee, some bright red polish, and a swipe of red lipstick later, she was dressed and putting on her jewelry. Darcy looked at her reflection. She looked _good._ This called for perfume, too. She took her Jovan Island Gardenia and spritzed some down the front of her shirt and on her wrists.  Then she took a minute, lit one of the burgundy candles she’d run out and bought the night before, and wrote an intention on a sheet of scented paper. Darcy folded her ring inside the paper, then sprinkled the outside of the paper with rose oil. After a few minutes of thinking about what she wanted--she pushed away all thoughts of Brock, because _bad magick, Darcy_ \--she unwrapped the ring and threaded it back on the chain around her neck.

 

“What is going on with you?” Jane asked, when Darcy got in the car.

“What do you mean?” Darcy said.

“You look all fancy, like you’re going on a date,” Jane said.

“Really? I just feel good today,” Darcy said.

“Okay,” Jane drawled. Once they got to work, Darcy sent Jane to the lab and headed to the break room to make her special coffee blend (her secret was a mixture of vanilla flavored coffee with a pinch of cinnamon). She was brewing coffee and humming to herself when someone spoke behind her. “Darcy?” She turned in surprise.

“Brock,” Darcy said. “Fancy seeing you here. You want some of my special blend?”

“Your special blend?” He raised an eyebrow. “You want to give me some of your special blend?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t make it dirty,” Darcy said archly. She tried to look at him sternly and failed to suppress her grin. He’d always been like that—flirty, charismatic, a little arrogant. Wildly sexy.

“No?” Brock said teasingly, stepping closer. He grinned. “God, that perfume brings back memories.”

“Really?” Darcy said.

“I chased a woman down U Street once because she smelled like you,” he said.

“Sure you did,” Darcy said sarcastically. He was exactly the same. That was why she needed to be careful or she’d be back in some ambiguous _thing_ with him.

“I swear, I did. She was a very nice tourist from Indiana,” he said. “You look amazing. Have I said that before?” He smirked.

“Oh, I bet you have,” Darcy said. “To every woman in this building.”

“Not _every_ woman,” he said.

“No?” Darcy asked playfully.

“Maybe 67%?” he said. She realized that she probably needed to get out of this break room before she ended up having sex with him on the adjacent table. Darcy could have sworn he caught her glance at the table and read her mind. He smirked so widely that the scars around his eye flexed. She could feel him watching her as she left, coffees in hand.

 

***

She came back to the lab and plopped down. “Ooooh, Jane,” Darcy said. “I just saw Brock. That man is going to kill me.” She set the coffees down with a _clunk._ Jane snorted.

“You can’t actually die from sex or sexual tension,” Jane said.

“I dunno,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “He could wreck me. Definitely, we could’ve sustained wicker injury.”

“What?” Jane said.

“I mean, he’s so much stronger than me,” Darcy lied. She was thinking of the time they’d actually messed up her wicker headboard.

“Oh,” Jane said.

 

A few minutes later there was a knock at the lab door. Brock was standing there, holding her bag of coffee. “Someone left a special blend all alone and I rescued it,” he said dryly. “I think it might be lonely.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, snatching back her coffee. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you so flirty? You weren’t this bad at that bath store!”

“I don’t know,” he said, grinning. “I honestly don’t know. I woke up in a really good mood today?”

“Really?” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips.

“She did, too,” Jane said.

“Janey, hush,” Darcy said, shooting her a look.

“God, you smell good,” he said. “Maybe that’s it? It’s all you,” he said, gesturing to her form. “You wanna have dinner sometime?”

“Yes, I mean, of course but I think we should stay friends,” Darcy said.

“Friends,” he repeated, nodding. “That would be good.”

“Friends?” a voice said skeptically. They both looked over. Behind them, Jane started to laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've written about these earrings before, but for some reason, I love them, so I'm giving them to Darcy: https://www.etsy.com/listing/493050122/bird-jewelry-splittail-swallow-earrings?utm_medium=display_product&utm_source=pinterest&utm_campaign=us_rtg_dartg_vis_dsk&pp=1


	4. If You Suspect A Love Spell, Contact Your Alternative Health Provider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, but I have changed the rating on this fic! You are forewarned: this chapter is giving us our M-status. I love all your comments and kudos and I'm having fun with this one.

Fallon was having a rough day. First, there had been a minor fire alarm situation overnight--someone trying for sexy ambiance in their dorm room had sent the entire building into evacuation mode, though they’d avoided the sprinklers, thank the goddess--but it meant she’d had to show up at work at 3am to check on everyone shivering on the sidewalks and distribute food and hot beverages. That had left her operating on no sleep for the later crisis. One of her best RAs was now in trouble for staging a global warming sit-in in the office of the university’s new president. He was refusing to leave. Fal was 100% down with protecting the environment, but it left her short an RA.  “Who can fill in for Blake?” she groaned to the RA in front of her. “We need someone to be here overnight.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Rumlow,” the RA said sadly. “I’ve got an evening class, Brian’s away with the swim team…”

“I know, I know,” Fal said, looking at the schedule in front of her. “It’s okay, Neveah. I’ll stay here overnight. I’m working out my karma,” she said.

“Your karma?” the RA said. She was from Utah. Earnest, hard-working, and remarkably untattooed and uncynical for this part of the universe.

“It’s just a fancy Buddhist way of saying my spiritual debts,” Fallon said.

“Oh,” Neveah said. “I gotcha.” She nodded seriously.

 

***

 

“Hey,” Darcy said. Brock had been waiting for her in the hallway while they closed the lab.

“Hey,” he said, grinning. “How was your day?”

“She got no work done because she was busy thinking about you naked,” Jane muttered quietly, stuffing things into her messenger bag. Darcy was just standing there.

“It was good,” Darcy said. “Good lab day.”

“Good,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“You realize you’re just staring at each other, right?” Jane said. “Eventually, they’ll turn the lights off. Unless that’s the idea?”

“Huh?” Darcy said. She was having trouble not looking at Brock.

“Goodnight, you horny idiots,” Jane said. A passing SHIELD agent stared in surprise.

“Bye, Jane!” Darcy murmured, her eyes not leaving his face. Jane snorted.

“Uh, yeah, goodnight,” Brock said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“So, uh, what do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“Ummm,” Darcy said, worrying her bottom lip. What did she want for dinner? The word want had other associations in her brain at the moment. Vivid ones.

“You still like pizza, right?” he asked. Pizza, he thought, could be delivered right to your apartment...if she felt like going? He has the weirdest feeling. Like he was feverish. But his apartment had good air conditioning. In his mind, it was like a cool oasis. He thought of all the cool, pleasant surfaces in his apartment: his leather couch, his cotton sheets, the counters, even the bathtub. All so cool. When you were warm, you really needed a cool place….

“Not as much as I like that, uh, what was that thing you used to make?” she asked casually.

“I can still make that,” he said, not sure about what dish she was referring to. “Did you want to go back to my place?” Grinning, Darcy nodded.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “That would be good. Really good.” She licked her lips.

“Do you want a ride? I mean, in my car? You know what I mean,” he said, pulling at his shirt collar. “Shit, it’s really warm in here.”

“Mmmm-hmm,” she said. “I’ve been all sweaty all day.” She blushed.

“You--you probably need a drink,” he said.

“I do,” she said. “Something cool.”

“I have lots of cool...things,” he said.

  


***

 

Fallon was okay with crashing on the couch in her office, really. But stepping in a mystery spill in the bathroom that night? Too, too cruel. It meant she had to wear her work pants to bed and hope for the best on the nature of whatever that was on her pajama bottoms and favorite behind-her-desk slippers. Changing her clothes behind a locked office door, she put the pajamas and slippers in the big ziploc bags she kept in the office. Fal sighed. She got the last Butterfinger out of the dented vending machine and tried to think positive.

 

***

 

“Friends, friends, have sex, right?” Brock said, pulling away from the kiss to unlock his apartment door.

“Yeah, they do,” Darcy said, nodding. She felt irresistibly drawn to him. Her mouth was actually watering. “Good friends do a lot of things together,” she said. “All kinds of things.” They’d started kissing at red light, forced themselves to stop, then begun making out in earnest on the sidewalk. Now she felt a little weak in the knees and leaned against the door, panting. It was hard to keep her hands off him. She rubbed her thumb against his shoulder.

“That’s good,” he said, looking at her hand as if it seemed slightly unreal. “I always missed being friends with you.”

“Yeah. We should--we should have stayed in touch,” she said, nodding and pulling herself up on her toes to kiss him. She felt him squeeze her waist, then his hands drifted down, and she was suddenly floating. He’d scooped her up. She pulled back to look at down at the ground and he steadied her back with his other hand.

“Uh-huh, that was bad, bad thinking, not staying in touch,” he said, pushing his apartment door open with his foot.

“Wow,” Darcy said, “I thought I was floating for a second.” She stared at him. “All floaty.”

“Do you--do you want to lie down?” he asked, brow furrowing. “I don’t want you to fall.” He shut the door with his foot.

“I think, yeah, we should both lay down,” she said, kissing him. “I need help with my clothes, I’m so warm. After I lock the door,” she said, gesturing for him to turn her body so she could reach the deadbolt.

 

He carried her into the bedroom and deposited her on the bed. She was unbuttoning his shirt when she had an idea. He was all sweaty. “Can you get ice?” she said, licking her lips.

“I can get ice,” he said. “I’ve got an icemaker.”

“That’s good,” she said. “We didn’t have one in Norway. I missed...ice.” She could feel the sweat sliding down her back.

 

She’d taken all her clothes off when he returned with the ice bucket. “I usually put wine in this,” he said, his eyes glued to her bare skin. She reached a hand out to him.

“Bring it to bed,” Darcy told him. “We can put wine in it later.” Stripping off his pants, he crawled into bed with the bucket and she grabbed a piece to run over his mouth. He grinned. “What?” she said.

“Do that for a minute,” he said.  When she brushed his mouth with the ice cube, he sucked on it for a second, then ducked his head down. Darcy moaned at the sensation of his chilled mouth against her nipple.

“Oh, oh,” she said, “that feels so good, so cool.” He sucked and rolled her nipple with his tongue. Darcy murmured sounds of encouragement. Reaching up blindly, he grabbed another ice cube and rolled it over her belly, making her shiver. She arched her back in response. “Do you have condoms?” she asked breathlessly, as the cube melted on her hot skin.

“In the drawer,” he said, releasing her nipple and shifting his glance to his nightstand. His pupils were large. She fumbled towards the nightstand and retrieved a box, tossing it to him. “Do you wanna?” he said.

“Uh-huh, more than I’ve ever wanted to,” she said, licking her lips. She ran her hands through his hair as his pulled a packet out of the box. He looked up at her, his expression almost dreamy.

“I always liked your nails,” he said. “All scratchy in my hair.”

“Your hair was always prettier than mine,” she said, sighing softly. She watched, rapt, as he put on the condom on and then shifted to align their bodies. He followed her glance, down to his erection. Darcy felt a strange mixture of erotic attraction and tender fondness towards his penis, even if the skin was lightly scarred. She had kissed it, sucked it, and—on one memorable occasion—played with it under the table at a very uptight DC restaurant. It was her favorite penis in all the nine realms.

“I could be gentle,” he said, “if the scars…”

“Nope,” she said, pulling his mouth down towards hers with a grin. “Not even a little, baby, I’ve really missed your di--” she stuttered and sucked in air with his first thrust. It had taken her by surprise.

“You okay?” he said, pausing. “I got excited when you said they didn’t bother you.” There was a thread of tension in his body. She shook her head, grinning wickedly.

“I just forgot how big you are,” she said, giggling. She rubbed his shoulders. “How thick you are…” she whispered, a little more dreamily. He smirked and rolled his hips so that she moaned a little.

“You want me to be wild with you, little witch?” he said in a teasing voice. That had been his joking nickname for her. Before. His little witch. _Streghetta_ in Italian. She melted a little at the pet name.

“Yes,” she said. “I want you. I want everything.” She felt like she was burning with want. He grinned and began to thrust more forcefully. All she could feel was the warmth of their bodies touching, the cool condensation of the melted ice between them, and him inside her. When she was on the verge of orgasm, he slowed down and she moaned sadly. He smirked. That playful trick was familiar, but she couldn’t stand it. She was too close.

“No, no teasing,” she said. “Please, baby.” In response, he kissed her softly and fucked her harder. It was exactly as incredible as she remembered, maybe even better because she’d yearned for him, fantasized about him, and longed for the sensation of being filled up, that slight ache at the edge of pleasure. No one else had ever done this to her……

 

She dug her nails into his hair when he came, shaking, and he followed her, groaning with pleasure. They stayed entwined for a few minutes, both breathing heavily, until he moved. She made a sound of discontent when their bodies separated and he grinned at her.

“I want to kiss you again,” he said, “all over.” Even though his muscles trembled with the effort of shifting his weight, he kissed down the dewy skin of her stomach, then looked up at her, his face oddly intent. “I feel like”--he paused, frowning, like he was having trouble with the words--”I feel like myself again?” he said.

“Oh,” she said, confused. “What did you feel like before?”

“I was scared,” he said, “scared to ask you out again, afraid you’d say no. But I’m not now. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

“I’m glad you asked me,” she said. “I was afraid you had other women. Lots of them. All over the place.” She looked around, as if she expected someone to emerge from the walk-in closet or the bathroom to challenge her for her place in the bed.

“No,” he said. “I really missed you. After--after I left. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave.” He rubbed his jaw, looking surprised by his own speech. She sat up, so she could reach out and touch his scarred face and looked down at him tenderly.

“I understand, though,” she said.

“You do?” he said, his expression dazed.

“There were Nazis,” she said seriously. “You can’t just let them run around, infiltrating government.”

“No,” he said, nodding. “But I seduced you and then I left you.”

“I wanted the first part. I even enjoyed pretending to have reservations, pretending to resist you,” she admitted guiltily. “About Ian. It made everything more exciting. I’ve never told anyone that. Not a soul. It was great, being seduced, being a bad girl.” She pulled a face. “I can’t believe I said that out loud!” she said, giggling. “It sounds so silly.”

“We don’t have to pretend any more,” he said. “Or feel guilty.”

“No,” she said. “We can do whatever we want. Anything we want. No fiancés, no undercover work…” Her voice was dreamy.

“Do you want more ice?” he asked, then looked befuddled. “We were supposed to eat, weren’t we?”

 

***

 

“Are you all right, Ms. Rumlow?” the student said to Fal. He looked alarmed.

“I’m totally fine, Marco,” she said, sighing and sipping her first latte of the day. She had momentarily forgotten about her impressive forehead bruise. “I just slipped on a spilled soda up in the eighth floor common area, hit my face on the coffee table.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't quite figured out how much of this is directed love spell (the dopey giggling, the radical honesty, re: anxieties are def love spell, though) and how much is just natural attraction. I think there would have been sex if they'd run into each other after a margarita or two, but they're actually sharing important stuff in the midst of all that goofiness.


	5. Darcy Loves Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“We need to go to work?” Darcy said to Brock doubtfully. She was nuzzling his shoulder. She’d woken up a few minutes before.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he whispered. “Work. We have work today.”

“Jane says I need to be there to make her coffee,” Darcy said seriously. She didn’t unloop herself from Brock’s embrace. “It’s important for….science.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I have a thing. A STRIKE thing.”

“You run STRIKE Alpha now, Jane told me that’s all you do,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Mission?” Darcy said dreamily. He rubbed her back and she practically purred against his neck, like a spoiled kitten.

“No, the other one. Staff meeting,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That seems important.”

“Yeah,” he said, “probably.”

“I don’t want to go make coffee for Jane, I like it here,” Darcy said.

“No,” he said, “it’s comfortable here. Warm.”

“Nice,” Darcy said. “Cozy.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he agreed.

“You’re pretty,” she told him, blushing.

“You still think so?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “When I look at you, I feel all...butterflies. Not just in my stomach. Butterflies everywhere. My lungs are all butterflies,” she said.

“Butterflies,” he repeated.

“They feel...yellow?” she said. “I don’t know what that means. But it’s happy.”

“Yellow, yellow is a happy color,” he said.

“Like sunshine,” Darcy said. “You’re like sunshine. I feel so warm. Sunny and happy and warm.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Do you want toast?” Brock asked. “I could make toast. With butter.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, smiling. “I love toast.”

 

***

 

Jane called Darcy once. Twice. A third time. Her phone went straight to voicemail. “Where is she?” Jane wondered aloud. She called again, ten minutes later and the phone finally picked up.

“Hello?” Darcy said.

“Darce, are you okay?” Jane said, worried.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She sounded all funny.

“I haven’t heard from you,” Jane said.

“I was at Brock’s,” she said. “He’s making me toast. I like toast the way he makes it. He put Nutella on my other toast.” She sighed. “Jane, I don’t want to make your coffee today.”

“What?” Jane said.

“I want to stay in bed. Brock and I both want to stay in bed and eat toast, we don’t want to go to staff meetings,” she explained. “It’s nicer here.”

“Darce, did you and Brock take something? Or smoke something?” Jane said. Darcy sounded high.

“No, no, you know I don’t do that, Jane! We just had pizza, when we remembered that we should eat something. We had ice, though,” Darcy said.

“Ice? Is that a drug?” Jane said.

“Nooooo, from the refrigerator, Jane! He has an icemaker. It makes such cool ice. We were both warm,” Darcy said.

“You were warm?” Jane said.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! He’s still pretty. It makes me have butterflies, he’s so pretty,” Darcy said.

“Brock?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” she said. “His penis is my favorite penis, Jane.”

“Okay, put him on the phone,” Jane said seriously. What had he given her? She was going to call Thor. Getting Darcy un-high might call for an Asgardian medic, if it was some advanced SHIELD drug, Jane thought.

“Okay, I’ll get him. Brooooooooock,” Darcy yelled. “Jane wants to talk to youuuuuuuuuuu!”

 

A few seconds later, there was a rustling noise.

 

“Hello? Jane?” he said.

“What did you give her?” Jane said. “She sounds high! Why is she high, Brock?”

“We’re not high,” he said. “We’re in love, Jane. I love her.”

“Yeah!” a voice--Darcy--said in the background. “We’re in love, Jane. You love me?” Jane heard her giggle.

“Yes, baby, I love you so much,” he said. “I love you more than anything. I only want to be with you.”

“Me, tooooooo,” Jane heard Darcy say distantly. “I love you, I love you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m getting back in bed, baby---I gotta go, Jane,” Brock said. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Byeeeeee, Jane!” Darcy called out. “We love you, too.”

 

***

 

The phone clicked off. “Shit,” Jane said. She wanted to call Thor, but then she remembered he didn’t have a phone. “Steve?” she asked, when she’d dialed the next likeliest person.

“Good morning, Jane, how are you?” Steve Rogers’ voice said pleasantly on the other end of the phone.

“Not great, Steve. Is Thor with you?” she asked.

“Yup, he’s here--someone get Thor, it’s Jane--what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I think Darcy and Brock Rumlow have been exposed to something,” Jane said. “Like a sex pollen? Is that really real?”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Really?”

“They were making eyes at each other after work, she’s not here today, and when I called her at his apartment, they both sounded high as kites, telling each other that they were in love. She giggled, Steve,” Jane said. “It wasn’t natural. Darcy doesn’t giggle. Or refuse to come to work.”

“I’ll get Tony and Bruce,” Steve said seriously. “We’ll come pick them up, run some tests?”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Jane said. “Do you have his address?”

 

When the team arrived at Rumlow’s apartment, Steve knocked. “Rumlow?” he said. Silence. He knocked again, more firmly. “Rumlow?!” he called. Steve looked at Sam Wilson and Thor. “Nothing,” he said grimly.

“We must open this door, my friends,” Thor said, raising his hammer. Sam stepped back.

“Yeah,” Steve said, stepping aside. He repressed a sigh. What if they were too late? Thor lifted Mjolnir and, after a clean, precise, whack, the entire door fell in with a thud. Steve heard someone swear and his heart leapt. Not dead, he thought.

“I have a gun!” Rumlow yelled.

“Who is it?” a familiar-sounding female voice said from inside the bedroom.

“My Lightning Sister!” Thor yelled. “Do you live?”

“Thor bear!” Darcy said joyfully. Steve rounded the corner into the bedroom, shield over his arm, and was confronted by the sight of an extremely naked Rumlow on top of Darcy. Who was also obviously—but less visibly—nude. “Hi, Steve,” she said, peering over Rumlow’s shoulder, “doesn’t Brock have a really pretty ass?”

“Uhhh,” Steve said, baffled. Was she joking?

“Aye,” Thor said. “It would compete with those of Asgard, when we have the summer games.”

“What kind of games?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“The throws of the discus, the wrestling, the running. We are all quite nude,” Thor said.

“Why are you here, Cap?” Rumlow said, looking over one shoulder. He hadn’t moved to cover himself or Darcy. He sounded offended.

“We, uh, think you’ve been pollened,” Steve said, looking at the ceiling. “You’ll need to come with us.”

“Nuh-uhhhh, Steve!” Darcy whined. Rumlow sighed.

“Cap,” Rumlow said, “that’s messed up.”

 

***

 

Fallon was going to the Bronx to see her mother. She was extremely careful getting on and off the subway and ascending the stairs to street level. It was cold enough to be icy in spots. She had emerged into the natural light and moved several feet away without injury when Fallon made the mistake of gloating. “Success!” she cheered. She missed the bike messenger who’d hopped the curb after skidding on some black ice until he was extremely close. It was all she could do to dive out of the way.

 

“Ma,” she said, when her mother answered the door. “I need help.”

“What happened, Fal?” Angela Rumlow said. Fallon was all smudged with dirt, her hair was wild, there was a bruise on her forehead, and she looked on the verge of tears. “Come inside, honey, come inside.” Her mother hustled her to the little dining set in the kitchen.

“I did--I did bad, Ma. I cast a spell,” Fallon said, slumping down in the vinyl chair, tapping her fingers on the aging laminate.

“A spell? Oh my God, Fallon!” Angela said. She crossed herself reflexively.

“It was for Brock,” Fallon said. “He likes a girl, she likes him. They used to be together, before his injuries, but he left her with the HYDRA thing. He was afraid to ask her out again, Ma. I thought I’d give them a push--”

“With witchcraft?” her mother said, horrified. “You did witchcraft on your _brother?”_

“I think I need to reverse the spell,” Fallon said **.**

"I'll call Father Delgado," Angela said.

"No, no," Fallon said, "I need to do this myself, Ma. Don't call a priest."

"What can I do?" Angela asked.

"Get me some coffee? Please?" Fallon asked. She'd been subsisting on dorm coffee. 

"Witchcraft!" Angela muttered, shaking her head. "My children, casting spells on one another!" 

 

_***_

“So, the sex pollen is real, huh?” Tony Stark said, peering at Brock and Darcy through the glass in the SHIELD lab. They were clad in agency-issued sweats and curled up on a cot now. “Oh, look, he just stuck his tongue in her mouth. That’s cute...wait, it’s getting gross now, there’s licking,” Tony said.

“You want to hear about gross, you try wrestling Rumlow into pants,” Steve muttered. "He was completely naked."

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Sam said. He’d helped Steve with a recalcitrant Rumlow while Thor carried a giggling, more compliant Darcy onto a quinjet.

The sight of Darcy leaving had sent Brock into a panic, until she called back to him. “Babe, let Stevie help with your pants! He gave me mine and this nice robe.”

“It is a fine robe,” Thor had assured them. “Extremely fluffy.”

 

Steve sighed. Thor had gone to check on Jane for accidental exposure, too. The nature of this pollen was mysterious. No one knew how they’d been exposed. How could Darcy be sick and not Jane? So, the couple’s vitals were being monitored and blood had been drawn for tests. “Are they allowed to take those clothes off?” Tony asked, taking a swig of his drink. Steve looked up and was greeted by the sight of Darcy’s bare back. At that moment, Brock’s hands went around her, stroking her pale skin. Steve quickly looked away, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

“We should go,” Steve said.

“Awww, Capsicle, don’t tell me you’re not curious? You can’t stay chaste and pure forever,” Tony said, as Steve hoisted him up and practically dragged him out of the room. Sam held the door open for Steve.

“Thank you,” Steve said gratefully, depositing Tony in the hallway.

“It’s weird, though, right?” Sam said, ignoring a complaining Tony. “We sure he ain’t HYDRA?”

“He’s a loyal agent,” Steve said. He shook his head. “There has to be another explanation.”

 


	6. What's Some Guy To The Universe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“Darce,” a voice said, shaking her. “Wake up, Darce, they’ve given you both the antidote, it should have processed now,” a female voice was saying urgently when Darcy’s eyes fluttered open.

“Wha?” Darcy said, fumbling for her glasses. Jane--when she had resolved into Jane behind Darcy’s lenses--looked wild. Her hair was askew, she was pale, and she had dark circles. “Jane? You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jane said. “How do you feel?” 

“Naked,” Darcy said. “And cuddly.” Under the sheet, Brock’s strong, muscular arm was wrapped around her. She leaned over to nuzzle him and started kissing his neck.

“Oh dear God, it hasn’t worked!” Jane said.

“Baby?” Brock said, stirring. “You ‘wake?” Darcy could hear the edge of lust behind his sleepiness.

“Uh-huh,” she told him, smiling. “Are you awake?”

“Oh, I’m awake,” he said, in full lust mode now. His arm squeezed her closer, so she could feel him. “Can’t you tell?” he asked.

“It hasn’t worked for either of you?” Jane said, sounding fully horrified. Brock frowned; he hadn’t noticed her.

“Jane, will you give us a minute?” Brock asked, his eyes not leaving Darcy’s face.

“Two minutes,” Darcy said.

“Three,” he said, leaning in chase her mouth with his.

“At least tell me how to make the coffee!” Jane said in frustration.

“Put cinnamon in the vanilla coffee--” Darcy began, pulling away from Brock’s mouth for a second. She was trying to focus on Jane as he ducked down. “Ahhh, Brock, that tickles!” she shrieked, when he rubbed his stubble against her nipple. He laughed against her boobs.

“Thank you,” Jane said, a little grimly. 

 

Jane left the room, finding Thor in the hallway. “They’re still horny idiots! It didn’t work. How could it not work?” she asked. Thor looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps they have been exposed to something from another realm?” he said. “The universe is vast and full of mysteries.”

“Don’t tell me that when I haven’t had the good coffee, okay? She gave me the recipe, which is how i know she’s still high as a kite. That’s her job security,” Jane said.

“What is the secret?” Thor asked, looking pleased.

“I’m not telling anyone! She told me when she wasn’t in her right mind, I’m making coffee without onlookers,” Jane said loyally.

“You are a good friend, my Jane,” he said.

“I want my assistant back. If I asked you to kill Rumlow, would you do it?” Jane asked, looking canny. Darcy was crucial to Jane’s functioning, she had realized. An MIA Darcy meant that things did not go correctly in the lab, making Jane feel grumpy and off-balance.

“What if she loves him?” Thor said gently. Jane grumbled. “What?” Thor said.

“We’re talking about the science of the cosmos! The universe! What’s  _ he _ to the universe? Just some guy with, you know, muscles,” Jane said. She’d gotten more of a glimpse of Rumlow than she intended. “I don’t care if there are no burns on his ass, okay?” she told Thor, who grinned slyly.

“You have seen it?” he said.

“I didn’t mean to!” Jane said. “The sheet fell.”

“I believe you, my love,” he said.

“She’s right, it is perfectly round like two cherry tomatoes. I still don’t understand how that’s better than my science---” Jane continued, as they headed upstairs.

 

***

Fallon was lighting candles on her altar with shaking hands. No one could get Brock on the phone and SHIELD wasn’t giving them any information, except to say that he was under quarantine at SHIELD medical for a “non-specific, non-fatal illness.” Her mother had driven her home and was now pacing the living room of Fal’s tiny apartment. Fallon could hear her heels clicking whenever her circles overlapped with the parquet floor of the entryway.  _ Click-click-click.  _ “Shit,” Fal muttered to herself. 

“Your brother better not have an alien STD!” Angela called.

“I’m sure he doesn’t!” Fallon said back. She wasn’t certain, though. What had happened to Brock? 

“Is it done yet?” her mother called. 

“Nooooo,” Fal said. “Stop rushing me, Ma!”

“I never knew voodoo took so long,” her mother complained.

“I’m not doing voodoo, that’s racist, Ma!” Fal yelled. “Vudun is a real religion in Haiti.”

“How is it racist--” Angela began, sticking her head into Fallon’s bedroom. She froze when she saw the altar and then pointed one finger--her nails were painted orange-red and be-ringed with diamond clusters--at Fallon. “That is voodoo! I’ve seen  _ Law & Order!  _ I know voodoo,” Angela said. 

“Ma, I cannot write an intention to recall the first spell if you don’t stop bothering me!” Fal said.

“How about this, how about you tell whoever those little figurines are that you were stupid and did bad magic on your brother before you get hit by an Uber!” Angela yelled back. “Your own flesh and blood!”

“Okay, okay,” Fal said. Angela stomped off and Fal heard her in the kitchen.

“You’re drinking beer like a man?” Angela yelled.

“Oh dear goddess,” Fal moaned, scribbling wildly.

 

_ I am so so sorry, I wished for something I shouldn’t have. I should have left it at the first, non-specific spell. Please don’t let my brother have an alien STD or have the universe kill me with a taxi. I’ll never try to coerce intimacy through magic again. Again, so sorry. A million times sorry. _

Fallon hoped this radical honesty was enough. She underlined the last sentence and dripped her paper with an essential oil linked to clarity as the candles burned.

 

“What do we do now?” her mother said, when Fallon emerged from the bedroom.

“We wait,” Fal said.

“I am no good at waiting,” Angela said. “I’m calling SHIELD again!”

  
  


***

“Mmmm,” Darcy said to Brock. They were curled up on a bed in a room at SHIELD headquarters. 

“You hungry?” he said, lifting his head to look at her face. 

“Coffee,” she murmured. She shook her head a little sleepily. “How many days has it been? Have they found the source of the pollen yet?” she asked. It felt like they had been having sex or snuggling for several days, with breaks for eating and showering. SHIELD was supposedly running tests on their blood samples, after the standard antidote had failed to abate their obsession with each other. Darcy remembered talking to a very-vexed and uncaffeinated Jane and totally blowing her off.

“No,” Brock said. “Two days. Cap called, no results yet; that’s what woke you up, baby. I’ll make coffee.” He got up out of bed. She stole the warm spot he left behind, grinning at his bare ass as he headed over to the coffeemaker. Technically, their room was more like a suite. They had a little kitchenette, a bathroom, and a large bedroom. There was an official SHIELD meal delivery and laundry service. It reminded Darcy a little of her Great-Aunt Dot’s swanky assisted living, that Darcy and Dot joked was “Eloise for the Elderly.”

“They’re still paying us for this, right?” Darcy said. She yawned. 

“Technically,” Brock looked over his shoulder at her, smirking so his scars twisted, “we’re getting overtime. Fury is--this is alleged, I have no confirmation he’s this concerned for our welfare--anxious because they can’t find the source.” 

“I don’t feel bad, though. Shouldn’t we feel bad if we’ve been pollened? I don’t even have a headache,” Darcy said, sitting up. 

“Maybe we’ve out-fucked it,” he said, grinning.

“I remember everything, but it was like all I could think about was you. Nothing else seemed important at all,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’m still about 60-40 on that one.”

“I better get the sixty,” she told him.

“You know you do,” he said, smirking. He crawled back into bed with their coffees and started kissing her. “I like being with you more than anything else in my day,” he said.

“Ditto,” Darcy told him.

“It’s as good as before, isn’t it?” he said. 

“Mmm-hmm, fake ex-husband,” she said.

“What if I wasn’t your fake ex-husband?” he said.

“Real boyfriend?” Darcy said. He grinned.

“I was thinking real live-in boyfriend, before you get away again,” he said. “Don’t want you to disappear to some damn fjord.”

“I hated all the fjords,” Darcy admitted.

“No fjords at my place,” he said. “Move in with me?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I mean, yes.”

“You’re saying yes?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said happily.

  
  


They were happily entwined and caffeinated when a voice buzzed in from a ceiling speaker. “Commander Rumlow?” it said.

“Yeah?” Brock said, rolling his eyes up.

“Sorry to disturb, sir, but your mother is calling. Repeatedly,” the voice said.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“Somebody called your mom! Who called your mom?!” Darcy said, laughing.

“I gotta take this call,” he said, sighing. He leaned down, kissed her again, and rolled over to answer the phone attached to the wall. “Hey, Ma--” he began, then went quiet. “Yeah, I’m good. Really good. I have news, Ma. I’m moving in with someone.” Darcy heard a noise through the phone. “Ma? You okay?” Brock said. “I think she fainted,” he told Darcy. He put his ear back to the phone. “Hey, Fal. What? What do you mean, we can’t move in together? A spell? Well, so what? You said it was--there was another one?” he said.

 


	7. The Designated Driver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

“What’s going on?” Darcy said, alarmed by the shift in his body lines. Brock had gone tense. He hung up the phone.

“We’re under a spell,” he said.

“How did you know I did a spell?” she said.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I wished for someone. Non-specifically,” Darcy admitted, “which means it shouldn’t bring us together unless---”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all that,” he said, his voice flat. “Fal went with non-specific, too, until she decided to compel us, apparently.” His voice was bitter.

“I don’t feel compelled,” Darcy said, leaning over to touch his scarred shoulder gently. He flinched, shrugging off her touch.

“We were so fucked up, we were stoned. People thought we’d been sex pollened!” he said, sounding furious. He grabbed some SHIELD-issue clothes off a nearby chair and started to get dressed.

“So?” Darcy said.

“You weren’t in your right mind,” he said. “You didn’t consent.”

“I consent now,” she told him, feeling a weird panic at his hostile tone and the way he wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“Because that’s fair,” he said. “Real fair to you. I’m going to tell Fury to stop looking for an antidote,” he said. “I have to explain to Nick Fury that my sister is a goddamned witch and the reason Cap had to wrestle me into these stupid fucking pants.” He stood up and went to the door.

“Brock? You’re coming back, right?” Darcy said. With his hand on the door handle, he sighed.

“You should go home,” he said quietly. “Pretend my sister didn’t magic us into bed together, okay?”

“Brock--” she began, wanting to tell him that she didn’t care what his sister had done, but the door shut with a _bang_ before she could finish.

 

***

“So, he just ditched you?” Jane said, horrified, when Darcy went back to the lab and explained what had happened.

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered. “He did.” She thumbed at the edges of her regulation-issue SHIELD medical clothing and looked down. She’d waited almost an hour and a half. He’d never come back to her. “What do I do, Jane?” Darcy said. She looked at the floor and her feet. The medical shoes they’d given her were slip-ons. “Besides get out of these weird knock-off Keds?” she said, trying for levity and failing. She hurt. Physically. It felt like she’d been knocked off her feet and the air had gone out of her lungs. She still wanted him. Whatever lingering spell effects that remained meant she had--had feelings. Of course, she’d always had feelings for him. That had never really ended. She’d been, well, not happy, but able to understand why he’d left her the first time. But leaving her now? When he’d said he wanted them to live together? He must not feel the way she felt, not really. Maybe for him, the spell had been the major thing. Darcy looked up, eyes tearful. “These shoes, they don’t really fit my feet?” she told Jane, trying to hold it together. She was acutely conscious of all the people walking by and everyone who’d seen her leaving medical for the lab. SHIELD was a gossip mill. Everyone knew. He’d just left and everyone knew.

“Let me take you home,” Jane said. It was very difficult for Jane not to immediately find Brock Rumlow and slap him, but she knew that wouldn’t help Darcy right now. “You need to get back to your normal things, that will help,” Jane said, with more confidence than she actually had.

“Okay,” Darcy said flatly.

 

She let Jane take her home, then said she would be okay alone and shooed the scientist away. “You were right, home is better. I’ll just catch up and see you at work tomorrow, I’ll be okay,” Darcy said.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Jane asked. “I’m happy to stay.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m going to shower and rest, then read all my emails,” Darcy said, trying to sound like herself.

“Well, I can always check on you,” Jane said. She had a key to Darcy’s apartment.

“Go home to Thor, before he eats all your limited edition Pop Tarts,” Darcy said jokingly.

“Darce--”

“Go, Jane, I’m a big girl,” Darcy assured her.

 

Alone, she stood under the warm water of her shower until it turned cold. Then she put on clean, familiar clothes, and made a cup of coffee, and crawled into bed. She was trying to warm up, but nothing seemed to be working. Darcy shivered a little under her blanket. Getting up, she retrieved another blanket and adjusted the thermostat. It would just take time, that was all.

It was several days later, while she was making coffee and hoping Brock would show up, when Darcy realized the obvious. She’d been wondering how you could go from wanting to live with somebody to never wanting to see them again in the space of an hour, when it dawned on her:  

 

_The universe had decided she still owed a debt. This was her karma for cheating on Ian._

 

“Shit. Shit. I’m such an asshole,” she said out loud.

“What? You okay?” a passing agent said in concern.

“Nothing, sorry. Science problem,” Darcy said.

“Oh, okay,” she said.

“Oh, man,” Darcy muttered. She’d almost sprinkled cinnamon on the countertop instead of the coffee filter basket.

 

***

 

“Fal, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to talk about it,” Brock said coldly into the phone receiver. He’d been dodging his sister and mother’s calls in the week since Fallon’s confession. But Fal had started calling during the workday. Repeatedly. He’d stomped out of a staff meeting to answer her this time, put an end to things.

“Bro-Bro,” Fal said, her voice sad, “please talk to me.”

“What is there to say?” he said. “You did this _this thing_ to me, to her. You did it to her, too. I don’t even know how that shit fucking worked. It shouldn’t work, okay? No regular person should have that kind of power! How did it happen? You’re four hours away and you made us both stupider than--” He gritted his teeth and fell silent as several people walked by, eyeing him nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She was sorry.

“Stop calling me. I can’t talk about this anymore,” he said, hanging up abruptly. He went back into the meeting, sitting down in his chair. Across the table, Steve frowned at him.

“Rumlow,” he said, when Maria ended the meeting, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Brock said. “Just a family thing. Not important, Cap.” People began to rise and file out out the room.

“We still on for drinks, mate?” Jack said, moving over from where he’d been talking to several other agents. It was a regular STRIKE Thursday night thing. Everyone went to a bar on U Street.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Thought you might have a date, you were so distracted, you let Hernandez clock you,” Jack said.

“No,” Brock said. “A drink would be good.” He sighed and rubbed his jaw. That had been where Hernandez had landed a clean hit. He’d slipped up in training this morning, failed to block appropriately. He never slipped up. He felt tired. Low energy.

 

***

 

“How are you?” Jane asked Darcy, on Thursday afternoon. It was clear to Jane that Darcy was trying to be her normal self. She joked, she made coffee, she answered emails, and caught up on her work. But something was off.  

“I’m fine,” Darcy said. But her smile didn’t go all the way to her eyes. Jane frowned. Darcy didn’t seem like Darcy.  Not quite the same. And she was always cold and a little pale. Constantly bundled in sweaters and cardigans, or tugging at the scarf around her neck. Even Thor was worried; he’d gone to Asgard to consult the healers. They weren’t telling Darcy.

“What if we see a movie?” Jane suggested. “Would you be okay with a sorta blind date?”

“A blind date?” Darcy repeated.

“One of my friends from Culver is teaching here. You’d like George,” Jane said. “He teaches history. I could go with you, so it would seem less obvious?”

“Okay,” Darcy said passively. She was really too cold and too tired to argue. She’d been feeling so sad all week. Maybe if she pretended to be social around a stranger, it would help? She could be bright, she thought. Conversational.

  


***

 

“Why aren’t you talking to Darcy?” Steve said in a low voice. He’d arrived at the bar late and found Brock alone on a barstool. The other STRIKE guys were playing pool nearby.

“We got pollened, Cap, I’m giving her space,” he said.

“Space like a week or two, or space like, you won’t be able to see each other from space?” Steve said, looking up at the far wall. The bar was an odd one, he thought. They let you write things on one wall. With his vision, he could make out a series of scrawled notes in marker, including one that Steve translated--thanks to his old friends Gabe and Jacques--as a threat to do uncomfortable things to President Ellis’s less popular successor in French:  
  
_Spring break 2018! -MJF_

_Baisier le président américain avec une cuillère_

_Fuck you! You’re an asshole! USA! USA!_

 

It was clear people crossed each other out, wrote notes to one another, and redirected commentary back and forth. Probably local students.

“Did you just make a joke, Cap? I didn’t know you did jokes,” Rumlow said.

“Maybe. Question still stands,” Steve said, with a brief grin.

“Space like space,” Rumlow said. “It was an accident. Wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m forgetting about all of it.” He studied his drink. “You want one of these?” he asked Steve.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Haven’t been able to get drunk since FDR was alive, but I still have taste buds.”

“Good,” Brock said, flagging the bartender. “You can be the DD.”

“DD?” Steve said.

“Designated driver. It’s usually me. This is my one drink. But if you’re driving, I can have a second drink,” he said.

 

The second drink turned into a third, before Steve gestured away more drinks. Brock was resting his forehead on the bar. He wasn’t weepy or punch-drunk or anything else Steve had seen drunk men be, just very still. “You all right?” Steve asked carefully. He wasn’t even sure Brock was drunk.

“I’m fine,” he slurred, his voice slightly muffled. “Just real tired, Cap. So tired. I ain’t been tired like this in my whole fucking life.”

  


***

 

Blind dates were hell, Darcy thought, as she pretended to listen to George monologue about his current book. It was a book, but he was doing that academic thing and calling it a monograph. She made eye contact with Jane across the table. Jane mouthed sorry. Darcy let her eyes drift inconspicuously back to her phone. George didn’t seem to notice. Long ago, Darcy had realized that some guys, particularly academic guys, just needed to know they had a captive audience on a date, not that the date was actually entertained. Maybe the thrill was in knowing that your date couldn’t escape or something? Like a hostage situation?

“I really liked the movie,” Jane said, desperate enough to interject. She’d picked an older film that they were re-running. A big Bollywood historical drama called _Jodhaa Akbar_. She’d thought George could connect with the history and Darcy would like the pretty people. Jane knew Darcy liked the male star and Bollywood comedies in general, when she was feeling down.

“Truly, Jane? Movies are really inferior forms of entertainment and Bollywood movies”--he weighted the last two words with scorn--”are terrifically cheesy and poorly fleshed out, don’t you think? All that singing and dancing? Really unrealistic,” George said. “Don’t you think, Darcy?”

“She likes Bollywood, George!” Jane said.

“The husband and wife sword fighting?” George said archly. Darcy sighed and said she had to go the bathroom. In the mirror, she was oddly pale.

 

Eventually, Jane and Darcy said goodnight to George and then snuck back into the restaurant and went over to the bar. “I need a drink,” Darcy announced. “That was horrible, Jane.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jane said. “I had no idea that his current book was on the history of Luddite ideas. I don’t even remember him sounding that--”

“Asinine?” Darcy said.

“British?” Jane said at the same time. “He used to be normal and American-sounding. Maybe it’s the Luddite book?”

“His _monograph,_ Jane. It did make me want to go live in a cabin in the woods like the Unabomber, just so the sound of his voice couldn’t reach me via modern technology,” Darcy said. “Any modern technology.” She waved down a bartender. “Tequila, please?”

“That bad?” Jane said.

“Eh,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to feel my feelings anymore and that is the gift that Mexico and the worm have given us.”

“Have you talked to him?” Jane said carefully. She meant Brock. Darcy made a face.

“Nope,” Darcy said. She sipped her first shot and then studied it. “That’s ironic.”

“What?” Jane said.

“I always joke that _Practical Magic_ made me want to be all witchy,” Darcy said. “They drink tequila in that one. But it turns out to be evil tequila that the dead boyfriend left on the porch. And everyone’s karma gets all wrecked there, too.”

“Okay, I really need to watch that movie and figure out what the deal is, because every anecdote you tell me is so weird,” Jane said. “Why don’t we do that tonight?” She didn’t want Darcy drinking too much.

“One more drink,” Darcy said, “then we’ll call an Uber.”

“Okay,” Jane said. She looked at Darcy, still baffled. “I don’t understand why you don’t call him. Or he doesn’t call you? Do you both think a spell did that?”

“It was my fault, Jane,” Darcy said. “This is just the repercussions of my bad karma, the universe trying to teach me a really hard lesson about honesty. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the reason his sister was tempted to do coercive magic.”

“What?” Jane said. “I don’t understand.”

“We cheated. Or I cheated. When I was engaged to Ian? Brock and I had an actual affair back then, when we were pretending to be married--”

“What?!” Jane said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I cheated on Ian. Many, many times. Apparently, I still have lessons to learn from that original mistake.”

“You can’t literally believe--”

“That the moment we’re around each other, things go all to hell?” Darcy said. “Yes, yes, I do. Maybe if I’d been better then, we’d have a chance now, but it’s obvious we don’t. It’s my mess, Jane. My mess spiralling out in this really weird elaborate way.”

“If you say so,” Jane said, looking dubious.

“What else could it be?” Darcy said.

“I’m worried about you. You don’t seem well,” Jane said. “You’re pale and cold and…”

“Have bad karma?” Darcy said, lifting the glass to her lips.

“Karma doesn’t make you consumptive-looking and mopey,” Jane said, feeling a wave of science-based irritation at the whole thing.

“You think I look consumptive?” Darcy said, giggling.

“You look like that painting--what’s the one we saw at the Tate when you dragged me there so I would walk? The lady in the water one?” Jane said.

“Ophelia?” Darcy said.

“I dunno, she had flowers or whatever,” Jane said grumpily.

“Oh, yeah. Ophelia by Millais. They weren’t consumptive flowers, she drowned herself,” Darcy said. “In the riverrrrrrrrrrr.”

“Don’t joke about suicide.”

“I’m a very good swimmer, Jane.”

 

Some time later, they stumbled out to the curb. “What hit me?” Darcy said.

“Second shot,” Jane said. “I think you’re just tired. Why don’t you go home with me?”

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said, opening the door to the Uber. The driver seemed familiar.

“Hi,” Jane said, “you drove me last week.”

“Yes,” he said. “Dr. Foster, right?” He gave them a wide smile.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “I’m the hapless assistant.” He seemed to find that really funny and kept up a line of pleasant chatter as they drove to Jane’s.

“Darce, come in with me,” Jane said, when they got there.

“No, no, it’s okay, I feel awake now. I’ll go home, see you in the morning,” Darcy assured her.

“All right,” Jane said, unable to shake her sudden unease. The driver smiled at her. She said goodnight to Darcy and watched as they drove away.

 

Inside the car, the driver adjusted the radio as he drove. “Oh, I recognize this song. It’s the Lumineers,” Darcy said. “It didn’t know they ever played one that on the radio.”

“What’s it called?” he asked.

“Ophelia,” Darcy said. Why was this even on the radio? Did he have a satellite radio service or something?

“Ophelia. I feel like I’ve heard of it,” he said, sounding all arch. Weird, she thought.

"Uh-huh," Darcy said. Maybe she was just having karma issues? That was probably it. The feeling made her all sad. She really needed to, like, consult somebody. And probably avoid Brock. But he was making it easy. Too easy. They drove in silence for awhile and she started to feel sleepy again. By the time they’d hit the bridge over the river--miles and miles in the opposite direction from her apartment--Darcy was out like a light. The Uber driver hummed a song to himself, then smiled. His long fingers tapped the steering wheel and then moved up to adjust the rearview mirror. A sleeping Darcy was clearly visible. He barked out a laugh.

“There is a willow grows aslant a brook,” he singsonged in the silent car, those pale fingers dancing. In the backseat, Darcy didn't hear him recite Shakespeare's lines about Ophelia.


	8. Caution: Magic In Use

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos.

Jane and Darcy had a few long-held safety procedures:

  1. _Don’t let your friend leave places with strangers._
  2. _Watch your friend’s drinks and general vicinity._
  3. _Call when you get home._  



So, Jane expected Darcy to call her when she got home. Twenty minutes elapsed. Then thirty. She looked at the clock on her laptop. Jane called Darcy. Her phone went straight to voicemail. “I’ll wait five minutes,” Jane said to herself, “it’s probably that they hit traffic and she hasn’t realized her phone is dead yet.” Five minutes later, Jane called again. Nothing. She called Natasha.

“Hello?” Natasha said.

“Are you in DC? I need someone to drive me to Darcy’s, so I can check on her. She hasn’t called to say she’s back yet,” Jane said in a rush.

“I’ll be there in five. Do you have a key or should I bring something?” Nat said.

“I have a spare key,” Jane said, pacing. They hung up and Jane waited. She felt very sober all of sudden. “Goddammit, why does Thor have to be gone?” she muttered, chewing her nails. All she could think about was the strange unease she’d had leaving Darcy with the Uber guy. A bad feeling. She hadn’t thought of the Uber guy as a stranger; he’d driven her before without incident. _He’d driven her before and knew her name._

 

Jane suddenly felt nauseous.

 

She almost beat Natasha up the sidewalk to Darcy’s door, her hands shaking as she inserted the key in the lock. “Goddammit!” she said, fumbling.

“Let me,” Nat said gently, “you are distressed.”

 

Jane held her breath as Nat went in first, gun drawn. The apartment was dark and still. There was no sign of an accident or an assault, but also no sign of Darcy. “It does not appear she ever made it home, Jane,” Natasha said, frowning.

“I need to get a raven or a message to Thor,” Jane said, “we need Heimdall and the hammer. I have something in my lab I could use.” Natasha nodded and they departed Darcy’s empty apartment.

 

En route to headquarters, Nat placed a call. The man on the other end answered quickly. “What’s wrong, Romanoff? You only call me this late when there’s been an international incident,” Steve said. “Who’s in China’s waters now?”

“Steve, Darcy’s missing. We need a team and access to the street cameras at SHIELD. I think she and Jane’s Uber driver was some sort of plant--”

“He knew my name!” Jane said out loud. “Motherfucker, I can’t believe I didn’t see--”

“Jane, don’t blame yourself, lots of people would recognize you. It appears that he’s kidnapped Darcy,” Nat told Steve. “We don’t know why. There’s been no ransom demand--”

“Which means he doesn’t want my science. If he wanted that, he could have taken me,” Jane said out loud, mind running wild. “What if it’s someone who wants to hurt Darcy, just to hurt Darcy? If they don’t want something else, then we have nothing to trade--”

“Calm yourself,” Nat said, shifting the phone away. But Jane noticed she drove faster.

“Darcy’s missing and you think the Uber driver was the kidnapper?” Steve said, trying to get the details right. Next to him, Brock lifted his head from the bar’s counter.

“What? What did you say, Cap?” he said.

“Darcy’s missing,” Steve repeated.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Brock murmured, rising.

 

***

Darcy woke up in a strange place. A man was sitting opposite her. “Loki!” she said, when her eyes had adjusted to the dim light in the room. “Why did you kidnap me? You’re supposed to be _behaving.”_ She made her face stern.

“I am only doing it for your own good,” Loki said. “You ruined my magic!”

“Your magic?” Darcy said, befuddled.

“My Asgardian love spell is a flawless piece of magical craftsmanship and you two just toss it away,” he complained.

“Your love spell? Brock’s sister cast the spell,” Darcy said. Loki rolled his eyes.

“You think she cast the spell?” he said archly. “I do not get the appreciation I deserve. Especially on Midgard. Did you think that some mortal could compel you in that fashion? That was no Midgardian magic! My magic is not to be trifled with. My magic is magic on an Asgardian scale! It spans the centuries and the realms. You cannot conjure my magic with an altar in _Brooklyn_. The only Midgardian even capable of comprehending my magic might have been Shakespeare--”

“What?” Darcy said, head spinning.

“I am chronically underappreciated,” he repeated. “Your little spells were mere fripperies, the barest wisps of magic by comparison. Milk-thin. More wishful thinking than anything else.”

“Loki,” Darcy said, trying to sound firm and yet maternal like Queen Frigga, “please tell me everything?”

 

***

 

Jane got to SHIELD and split from Natasha. “I will meet Steve,” Natasha said crisply. Jane nodded. She could talk to Thor alone. Speed was of the essence. She moved into her lab, turning on lights, and moving to the machine that she kept double-locked in a secure safe. It was small, but gold. It had been crafted by dwarves and then enhanced by Queen Frigga herself. Jane had been given it for emergencies. She touched a button and the machine glowed to life, growing warm to the touch. She wound a knob and it crackled with the static of transferring sound across the realms. It was, in essence, a supernatural walkie-talkie.

 

“Jane!” Thor’s voice said, through the tiny magical holes. “I am afraid there had been a crisis on Asgard, I cannot talk long, my love--”

“Someone has kidnapped, Darcy,” Jane cut in.

“Who?” Thor said, his anger clear through the haze of static.

“We don’t know,” Jane said. When he asked her to explain in a serious voice, Jane went into detail about her driver.

“Ah,” Thor said, sounding chagrined. “My Jane, I do apologize--”

“What?” Jane said.

“Loki has escaped from Asgard’s jail. I have been looking for him. He left a note,” Thor said hesitantly. “That is the crisis.”

“So? He escapes all the time,” Jane said.

“The note was about fixing the spell he cast on Darcy,” Thor said. He was embarrassed, Jane could tell.

“Loki was the Uber driver. That son of a one-eyed asshole,” Jane said, furious.

“I’m afraid so,” Thor admitted. “But I do not think he will harm Darcy...at least, not on purpose?” He sounded hopeful.

“No, he’ll just make her--make her fall in love with another stupid person! I swear on the Norns, if he makes her fall in love with Tad from Logistics during this kidnapping, I will kill him, Thor,” Jane vowed. “She has been through enough. I gotta find Steve.”

“I will come help,” Thor said apologetically. “I shall arrive momentarily, my love.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

 

***

 

Loki paced when he was stressed, Darcy knew. He was pacing now. Pacing and waving his arms, and even occasionally flipping his hair to punctuate a point he thought was significant. “Loki,” Darcy said, interrupting a monologue that sounded suspiciously George-like, “is your spell making me all pasty and tired?”

“It should not,” he said. “It should not!”

“It should not?” she repeated, more skeptically.

“But it appears to be doing so,” he said, sighing. “If you just saw each other, you would be fine, I assure you.”

“Did you kidnap me for a reason, then?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said. “He will realize that he cannot live without you as soon as he thinks you are in danger.”

“Because of a spell?” Darcy said.

“No, that’s just Midgardian nature. Mortal men like the things that they are forbidden to have,” Loki said.

“Oh, because that doesn’t remind me of anyone,” Darcy said. Loki’s frown tipped up at the corners for a moment. "Did you injure his sister?" Darcy said sternly.

"What? No, it is not my fault she is uncommonly klutzy. Magic doesn't make one fall over one's feet, I assure you," he said.

"You better not be lying to me right now," Darcy said.

“You will wait here and he will come and get you,” Loki said. “It will work.”

“What if it doesn’t? Do we die?” Darcy said.

“I can undo the magic,” he said, sighing. “If I must.”

“Your beautiful Shakespearean magic, George?!” Darcy said, half-joking, half wanting to throw something at him. Nothing mean. Maybe just a t-shirt. Or a pillow. “Alas, what a tale of woe, between magic and her Loki-ohhhh,” Darcy said.

“Do shut up,” Loki said. “I did it so you would be happy. Truly happy.”

“You did it because you were bored in jail,” Darcy said.

“That too,” Loki said, shimmering away.

"Am I going to get all consumptive, you schmuckdoodle?!" she yelled at his dissolving form. All she got in response was a chuckle.

 

Darcy was alone in some weird apartment. All the doors were locked somehow, although there was food and supplies. “Ughhhh!” she said, stomping her foot. “I gotta find a freaking cell phone!”


	9. Jane Hates Tad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“It’s Loki?” Steve said, when Jane found him, Brock, and Natasha waiting by a fueling quinjet.

“Yes,” Jane said. “Thor will be here with a location from Heimdall momentarily. She should be fine.”

“Should be? Should be?” Brock said, clearly agitated. “He’s a genocidal maniac with slimy hair.”

“Can I have a word with you?” Jane said quietly.

“We’ll give you a minute,” Natasha said, towing away a befuddled-looking Steve by the elbow. In the distance, Jane heard him ask what was going on. Natasha had obviously figured it out.

 

“What is it?” Brock said.

“Loki did the spell, apparently. That’s what he’s here trying to fix. The love spell?” Jane said.

“What?” Brock said. He said something else, but it was drowned out by the sound of thunder. Thor landed some ten feet away.

“My friends!” he said. “I have ascertained the location of my Lightning Sister, thanks to the auspices of Heimdall! Shall we depart for Bethesda?” Thor asked, looking at them. He pronounced it oddly, making Bethesda sound like a wondrous place or a foreign vacation spot.

“Bethesda,” Brock repeated.

“Aye!” Thor said, beaming. “Whereabouts is it?”

“Maryland,” Natasha said. “Do you have an address?”

“I have written it down. Rest assured, my friends, she is in no danger,” Thor said, patting his pockets carefully. “My brother would not do her harm--”

“He killed eighty people not all that long ago,” Natasha said.

"He is very regretful," Thor said. "He is attempting amends." Brock stomped several feet away, muttering under his breath. Steve loped over to him and spoke quietly.

“All right,” Steve called, having heard everything. “Let’s go. We can land the quinjet in a park. You can take Loki back, Thor.”

 

***

Darcy was alone, sitting on the kitchen counter and eating blueberry frosted Pop Tarts, when Loki shimmered into being at her elbow. “Ahhhhh!” she shrieked.

“Get that blueberry gunk off your chin,” he ordered.

“You scared me!” Darcy said. She’d jostled her toaster pastry and accidentally gotten filling on her face. “Pfffht!” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“Stop that! It is an emergency,” Loki said, practically waving his arms.

“Yeah?” Darcy said casually.

“He arrives,” Loki wailed. “Make haste!”

“Who?” Darcy said, playing dumb.

“Rumlow, of course. You look a mess. Your hair is in that dreadful top knot and you have crumbs everywhere!” Loki said. “Heimdall must have tattled to Thor. You need to de-crumb yourself,” he scolded.

“Nope. Don’t care,” she said. “My dude, he dumped me like a hot potato. We’re over. To the left,” she gestured with her thumb.

“Why are you orange?” Loki said, gazing at her fingers in horror. Darcy shrugged.

“Maybe I had boredom-slash-hangover Cheetos first and this is dessert?” she suggested. “Theoretically. It’s not like there is anything else to do here? No TV, no WiFi.”

“You are a child,” Loki huffed. “I meant for you to improve your appearance. Must I leave you instructions? There is a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes, a shelf of bathing products, some very expensive unguents--”

“Unguents? Did you hear that on one of those ancient Egyptian tomb shows? Am I Cleopatra now?” she said.

“Not with those ghastly nails,” Loki said, staring in horror at the orange under her unpainted fingers. Grinning wickedly, Darcy smacked on her thumb. Loki cringed.

“So?” she said.

“The ancient Egyptians had a very advanced grooming system,” he told her seriously. “They were a refined people.”

“Were you there?” Darcy asked seriously.

“Possibly,” Loki said.

“Do you just like them because of all the gold?” she said thoughtfully. “The gold and the imperialism?”

“Will you stop talking and just sitting there?” he said. “Get up, you cannot be in this state when he arrives,” Loki said anxiously. “You need different clothes and hair and all of this made presentable”--he waved a hand at her face.

“You’re very tightly wound, you know that?” Darcy said.

“Do not vex me, I am trying to help you, you poor wretch!” he hissed. “Would you like to end up with Tad from Logistics?”

“Jane haaaaates Tad,” Darcy said.

“I am aware,” Loki said stiffly. “Please comply with my plans for your evening or there shall be Tad.”

“Ugh, okay, but I draw the line at unguents,” Darcy repeated, giggling. She kicked her bare feet at him. “Magic me pretty,” she said, sliding off the kitchen counter.

“The soles of your feet are ghastly and filthy,” Loki said, horrified. “How are you so dirty?”

“I dunno,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I just end up like this?”

“The horrors of this realm,” Loki said, muttering things under his breath.

“Did you just say fanny pack?” Darcy asked.

“I have seen five of them today. Five!” he said.

“Tourists, probably.”

 

Ten minutes later, Darcy had had a shower, her hair had been dried and arranged with magical rapidity, and she was sitting in a bathrobe while Loki fretted over which shade of eyeshadow to use on her lids. “Oh, go for the gold,” she told him, giggling.

“You are teasing me and I am in ill-humor already,” he hissed.

“You are not ready to give consequence to Darcys who are slighted by other men!” she joked.

“Stop moving your mouth, I must do the lipstick,” he complained.

“Fine, fine.”

“Shhhhh.” He conjured a bottle of perfume from thin air and began spritzing.

“Ohh, fancy!” Darcy said. Then she started to cough. “Oh my God, I just swallowed some of that.”

“You won’t die,” Loki grumbled. “It is Chanel.”

 

***

 

They arrived at the correct block in Bethesda. It was a street of row houses that had been converted to smaller apartments. Brock thought it seemed appropriately creepy. Loki had that fucking goth vibe, the greasy-haired witch. Or wizard. Whatever. He was having trouble with his terms lately, he’d been so damn tired. “How do we do this?” Brock said to Cap. He didn’t feel in control of his nerves, either. Thor might be waving and greeting people who asked for autographs, but Brock was somewhere between anxiety-ridden and slightly murderous. He had zero faith in the reliability of Loki Odinson. Or Laufeyson. Whatever the fuck he called himself. “I have a bad feeling,” Brock said. His guts were churning.

“She’s fine,” Natasha said coolly. “You should not worry about Loki doing harm to Darcy.”

“They’re actually friends,” Steve admitted. “I don’t understand it, but I also saw her try to take home a feral cat from behind the dumpster at a restaurant once. It tried to take off her arm, and she just kept calling it sweetie and promising it tuna.” Steve shook his head.

“Oh, yes,” Natasha said, “little Blini. She ended up getting the whole feral colony adopted. Blini has his own Instagram.”

“What restaurant?” Brock asked.

“Renaud’s,” Natasha said. The group was moving towards the townhouse in question when there was a shimmering effect a block or two ahead. The three of them immediately took defensive positions: Natasha hopped behind a car, Steve ducked down a step of basement steps, and Brock crouched behind a stone baluster on the nearest rowhouse. Only Thor remained on the sidewalk, seemingly unalarmed.

“Loki,” Thor said, sighing and shaking his head.

“I am afraid you have discovered me,” Loki said, holding his arms up in surrender.

“Loki, you were not to escape from jail,” Thor said, shaking his head.

“Darcy needed my help,” Loki said.

“The hell she did!” Brock yelled, adding a string of curses.

“You are only upset because you have not seen her!” Loki said back, sounding a little offended. “My magic is impressive!”

“What did you do, you little asshole,” Brock yelled, emerging from the stairs to charge at Loki. He was stopped by Steve.

“Where is she, Loki?” Natasha asked.

“Apartment 311. She is waiting for Rumlow,” he said. “The door will open for him.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Brock yelled, but Loki stepped backwards.

“Loki,” Thor said warningly. To Brock’s horror, the Asgardian actually turned into a bunch of fucking crows and flew away. Brock stared, open-mouthed.

“Wha---?” he said to Steve.

“Well, that was impressive,” Steve said.

“He probably saw it in a movie,” Natasha said cynically.

“Such visually impressive magic only lasts a few blocks, let us go in pursuit,” Thor said. Steve nodded.

“Last guy pays for lunch,” Steve said. They started to run down the sidewalk.

“Close your mouth and get Darcy,” Natasha told Brock, giving him a shove. Then she ran to catch up with Steve and Thor.

 

Brock looked around, still slightly dazed, then realized he was standing in front of the correct building. Nervously, he took his first step up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heart this Loki.


	10. 100% Refined And Classy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

“You must promise me you will give this effort,” Loki scolded Darcy. She was studying her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Huh?” she said, pretending to be transfixed by her appearance. He _had_ done a great job. She’d never looked so pretty. She wished for a phone, so she could take selfies. “Is this magic makeup?” she asked.

“No, it is Nars,” he said.

“Is he from Asgard?” Darcy asked. Loki made a strangled sound and murmured something about heathenish Midgardians who lacked refinement. “I totally heard that,” Darcy said. “That is rude. I’m 100%”--she fake-burped on purpose--”refined and classy.”

“Oh, for the Norns’ sake, just be nice to the man when he gets here. I must depart. They think I have flown away and he is currently creeping up here.”

“Why should I be nice to him, he ditched me!” Darcy said.

“Because he is utterly miserable without you, one, and two, he only ditched you, whatever that means, because he thinks you would not be attracted to him naturally with his present appearance,” Loki said.”It is a--what do you call it?--an esteem thing.”

“Low self-esteem? Well, that’s a dumb reason to dump me,” she said.

“Yes,” Loki said. “Extremely. I did not anticipate my magic backfiring so poorly. I do not suffer from this low self-esteem.”

“Please, don’t pretend like you don’t have moments. Everyone does now and again. But I really did not think that was why he ran away like he was robbing banks again. At all! Don’t you think he’s still hot?” Darcy said. “You hardly notice the scars once you’ve been around him for awhile. Also, the booty remains excellent.” Loki looked at her and then shook his head gently.

“I must remind myself on occasion that this is why I do nice things for you,” he said, beginning to shimmer away.

“You’ll have to make up for kidnapping me by doing mine and Jane’s makeup for all our big events!” Darcy yelled, doing duckface in the mirror. She heard Loki’s disembodied chuckle.

 

***

 

In New York, Fallon Rumlow’s doorbell rang in the middle of the night. She sat up straight in bed. “Shit,” she said out loud. “What fresh hell is this?” she wondered to herself, climbing carefully out of bed and retrieving the Louisville Slugger she kept under the bed. Brock insisted wooden baseball bats were more effective than aluminium. He was old-fashioned like that. Terrified, she crept into the living room as silently as possible. Going to her door, she looked out of the peephole. There was a package in front of her door. A big cellophane-wrapped basket, adorned with a green bow. “A murder trap,” Fal hissed. She waited five minutes, then ten. No one walked by. How long would a murderer wait, she wondered? She went and got her cell phone, dialing her mother in the Bronx. “Ma, somebody left a basket on my doorstep,” she said.

“What?” Angela said.

“Somebody left a basket--”

“Call the police! It’s probably that East Side Strangler,” Angela said.

“I thought they caught him in the seventies?” Fal said. “The one who thought the neighbor’s dog was Satan?”

“That was the Son of Sam!” Angela said.

“Just stay on the phone, I’m going to bring it inside,” Fal said.

“Oh dear God, my child is going to be murdered,” Angela was saying, as Fal cracked her door, yanked the basket inside, and shut it quickly again. She locked everything.

“I’m all locked in, Ma,” Fal said, “it’s okay.”

“Check it for bombs,” Angela said. “Look for wires!”

“No one’s sending me bombs, that’d be Bro-Bro,” Fal said, peering through the package. “It just looks like relaxation stuff?” she said. “Candles, a robe, some bubble bath, a bottle of prosecco, soaps…”

“From who?” Angela said.

“There’s a card,” she said, reading it aloud to her mother:

 

_I was very sorry to hear from your brother and Darcy that you had experienced some recent misfortunes. Let me assure you that these are in no way related to magic. Though a course of yoga or pilates may be advised to ameliorate your ongoing balance issues. Please accept my gift as an apology for not clarifying earlier that I was the crafter of the love spell that afflicted your brother, not yourself. Again, my sincere apologies._

 

“What in the world?” Angela said.

She’d received a gift, Fal realized. “I can’t read the name?” Fal said. “It looks like it says Laki? Do you know a Laki?”

“No,” Angela said. “A witch named Laki? What kind of name is Laki?”

“No idea, but she has excellent taste. I’ve had this wine before,” Fal said.

 

***

 

He had drawn his gun when he got to the door. He looked around cautiously. There was no one in the hallway, no sign of immediate danger or sneak attack. Facing away, Brock turned the handle, pushed the door open, scoped it out, and then stepped cautiously inside. “Darcy?” he called.

“Brock? Don’t shut that—door,” she yelled as the door clicked shut behind him. “Shit!” Darcy said, coming out of the bedroom.

“What? Oh fuck,” he said, realizing they were locked in when he tried the door. He turned back to look at her. “We’re stuck h—you look incredible,” he said, really looking at her for the first time. She was wearing something semi-transparent that hugged her curves. He swallowed. “Really good.”

“Loki has been meddling,” Darcy said. “He cast the spell, not your sister, by the way, so you need to apologize to Fallon.”

“So I’ve heard,” Brock said wryly. “He do any more spells tonight?”

“Beyond locking us in and making me over like a one man _Queer Eye_? I don’t think so,” Darcy said.

“I’m still gonna make him pay,” Brock said. “I was worried about you.” He crossed the room. Feeling wildly relieved that she was in one piece and not in some booby-trapped, crow-adorned hellscape, he actually hugged her. “You were kidnapped by a maniac,” he said.

“What?” she said.

“He’s a genocidal maniac,” Brock grumbled. She smelled fantastic, like peaches and sweet, heavy spices. He wanted to keep holding her. He ran his hand up and down her back, relieved that she was solidly there and not some trick.

“I think he mostly dabbles in misguided but non-lethal magic now,” Darcy said. Brock made discontented noises. “You okay?” she asked, her face near his neck.

“You aren’t scared or traumatized, are you?” he asked, drawing back and sliding his arms to her shoulders. He studied her for any non-obvious wounds or ill-effects.

“No. Do I look scared?” Darcy asked, looking at him with a slightly wry expression. He really needed to apologize to her, Brock thought. She was being very agreeable for someone he’d ditched. She hadn’t even cussed him out. He dropped his hand when he realized that he was touching her bare skin. The lingerie or whatever it was had very thin straps.

“No, you look….edible,” he said. Her skin was positively luminous, her mouth soft-looking, those blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not going to yell at me or slap me for being an idiot?”

“Nuh-huh,” Darcy said wickedly, “unless you’d like me to?” She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes, and gently brushed his lips with hers. Then she eased back down on her heels and looked at him expectantly. “So?” she said. “Where are we?”

“A weird locked room?” he said, momentarily surprised by that kiss and defaulting to the obvious.

“I meant you and me, smartass,” she said, and he grinned.

“I’m groveling. Did I mention I was an asshole? That seems important,” he said, swallowing.

“I might have decided to forgive you,” Darcy said. “Just a little.” She shifted up on her toes again and kissed him more encouragingly.

“How can I make it up to you fully?” he asked.

 

“This—this works,” Darcy said, gasping as he moved his hips, pressing into her. “Uhhhhhh, Brock,” she said, gripping his bare shoulders. “It really does.” He’d picked her up and carried her into the bedroom as soon as she’d mentioned that there was a very nice bed.

“Good,” he said, smirking in his old, familiar way. That teasing, arrogant expression—even altered by scarring—was impossible for her to resist.

“I missed you,” she said. As soon as she said it, she felt foolish. _This might run him off again._ His expression went flat. They had an intense moment of eye contact.  His eyes raked over her face. She felt suddenly, wildly uncomfortable.

“Good,” he said, “because I don’t wanna stay away anymore. I been miserable.” He leaned down to kiss her.

“Oh God, I thought I’d terrified you for a second,” she said, when he’d pulled away slightly. He shook his head, chuckling.

“No,” he said. “I’m fucking delighted, baby.”

“Did you just make a pun?” she asked. He smirked again.

“Wanna switch?” Brock asked. He shifted his weight onto one arm and slowed down. Darcy whined slightly when he slid out of her. Gently, he rolled her over onto her belly. “I know you like it this way, my memory’s fine,” Brock told her, his fingers drifting softly down her bare back. She listened as he replaced the condom.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, turning her head to look at him. He was smiling at her back, his scars crinkling at their edges. He lowered his weight onto her and she wiggled expectantly. She was surprised when he paused to whisper in her ear.

“Tell me you want me,” he said softly. She heard the guarded note in his voice, the hint of hesitation.

“I want you,” she repeated seriously, nodding. “I also want some pillows.”

“Okay,” he said, laughing and squeezing a few under her belly, all trepidation gone. “Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. He ran a hand down her side and she arched in response, enjoying the sensation of his touch. The burns gave his fingers and palms a different texture. The scar tissue there was shiny and smooth. “That feels so good, Brock,” she said, as he moved his hands over her.

“Really?” he asked. “It doesn’t feel weird?”

“Nope,” she said. He pressed into her again. Darcy moaned. Her responses seemed to encourage him. “Uhhhh,” Darcy said, leaning her face against the sheets. She hadn’t wanted to request this, too afraid it would make him think she didn’t want to look at him during sex.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I miss the sound of your voice.”

“I miss you breaking my---my bed at that creepy B&B,” she said breathlessly. The sound of her voice seemed to spur him to thrust harder. He reached between the pillow and her body to stroke her clit. It was enough to make her climax, spasming around him. Her body was still shaking when she felt him orgasm, pushing into her forcefully one last time. He swore, then kissed the back of her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his hips slowing. “I need something.” He rolled off her, but then wrapped his arms around her waist, sighing.

“Huh?” Darcy turned her head to look at him. “More sex?” She was incredulous. Maybe they _were_ being spelled up again? She definitely felt exhausted, though. She didn’t remember feeling tired then, just giddy and oddly honest.

“No, no,” he said, “not sex. A therapist and someone to slap me if I ever hurt you again,” he said. Darcy started to laugh. “What? I’m serious,” he said, looking disgruntled. “I fucked up.”

“Don’t say that in front of Jane, she loves to smack people who’ve done me wrong,” Darcy told him. They cuddled for a few minutes and Darcy’s mind wandered. She sat up suddenly.

“What?” Brock said.

“I wonder if Loki magicked those doors to unlock when we’d made up?” she said.

“They’re sex doors?” Brock said.

“Like that’s the weirdest thing we’ve ever seen?” Darcy said, getting up. “Relinquish that sheet.”

 

She wrapped herself in the sheet they’d kicked to the bottom of the bed and stalked out to the living room. Brock followed her. “You really think this’ll work?” he said.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Darcy said. She touched the handle and the door swung open. There was a _thunk_ as the body that had been sleeping against the door fell into the apartment. “Oh, hi, Steve,” Darcy said, as Captain America looked up. He’d been napping and leaning against his shield.

“Hello,” Steve said awkwardly. “I was keeping watch out there.” He was looking up at her from the floor. Darcy stepped back. Captain America’s head had landed practically on her toes. She didn’t want to flash the national icon her hoo-ha, if he could see up the sheet from that angle.

“Cap,” Brock said.

“Rumlow,” Steve said, closing his eyes for a second. Brock was naked again.


	11. Darcy Can't Resist A Funny Deck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Darcy called out when she heard Jane let Brock into her apartment. “Just give me a second, I gotta put my earrings on.” Brock appeared in her bedroom doorway. “Do I look okay?” Darcy asked, scrunching her nose.

“You look great,” he said, smirking slowly and walking over to wrap his arms around her and plant a kiss on her forehead. “You don’t need to worry,” he told her.

“Um, hello, I’m meeting your mom!” Darcy said. “Big freaking deal, okay?”

“She and Fal will love you, I swear,” Brock said. “It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t have a good track record with mothers,” Darcy said glumly. Ian’s mother had _hated_ Darcy with a passion, so Darcy had internalized a mother-in-law narrative that went: too American, too loud, too fat, no graduate degree, too American, please go away. She so nervous, she’d hardly been able to eat all day and Jane had actually fussed at her about eating. Jane! This was a freaking role reversal. She sighed, aggrieved and Brock chuckled.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure Ma and Fal will like you more than they like me. I’m kinda the black sheep. Or I was, until Fal joined the Bureau of Magic and Spellworking. I might be moving up on Ma’s list of favorite relatives,” he said.

“Oh, God, did you tell your mom that I--” Darcy began.

“No, no,” Brock said. He tucked her under his chin again.

“You’re messing up my hair!” Darcy said.

“It hurt too much to talk about you,” he said. “I was missing you so much.”

“Awwww,” Darcy said, melting.

 

From the other room, Jane chose that moment to yell, “Brock could always go naked!”

“Nah,” Brock called back, “I’m saving my next naked Tuesday for Asgard!”

“An excellent plan,” Darcy said, trying to wiggle free to put on some bracelets.

“Cap will appreciate it,” Brock said dryly, letting her loose. She caught him eyeing her in the dresser mirror.

“Has he seen you naked again?” Darcy asked. All of SHIELD knew about Steve’s sudden naked Brock phobia. He’d started getting Cameron Klein to alert him when Rumlow was hitting the gym showers, just to avoid more of it. It never worked somehow. Jane and Darcy had a culprit in mind.

“Eh,” Brock said, doing a so-so motion with his hand.

“Loki!” Darcy yelled.

“Yes?” Loki said, shimmering into view. “Ah, Commander Rumlow, good evening.”

“Asgard Dracula,” Brock said, nodding. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s spending some quality time with Thor,” Darcy said, elbowing Brock. “Be nice.”

“Okay. How are the children of the night?” Brock said casually.

“And yet I still like you,” Loki said. “Wonders never cease.”

“Gentlemen, play nice. Loki, Jane needs to have a discussion with you--” Darcy began.

“Just stop torturing Cap with my ass, okay?” Brock said. “I know how you feel about jocks, but you’re giving him a phobia of showers. The man’s starting to smell during the workday.” Loki grinned giddily and even Darcy started to laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. “I saw that,” Brock said teasingly. He pointed at her.

“As did I,” Loki said.

“I did it accidentally, I wasn’t laughing at Steve,” Darcy insisted.

“Of course not,” Loki said idly. “You are perfectly innocent.” The smile he aimed at his fingernails was positively wicked.

“You can magic this moment on a tape for us, right?” Brock asked. “Give me the digital receipts?”

“Don’t you dare betray me Loki--or I’ll--I’ll, ” Darcy said. She was grappling with what threat to deploy. Call his mother?

“Now you respect my magic?” Loki asked at the same time.

“Oh, I never said I didn’t think it was real, I was just worried about this one,” Brock said, gesturing to Darcy.

“Somebody needs to be worried about what I’ll do if they rat me out to Steve,” Darcy said, right as Jane popped her head into the bedroom.

“Guys, you’re going to be late,” she said to Darcy and Brock.

“Oh my God, oh my God, I can’t be late,” Darcy said, almost mowing Brock down in her attempt to dash for the door.

“You realize this is my mother, right?” Brock said.

 

***

 

Steve Rogers had just finished a workout in SHIELD’s gym. Rogers: 6, Punching bags: 0. He felt pretty good. Plus, he was alone in the gym. That meant he was free to shower without accidentally running into naked Rumlow.

 

Steve had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, when a completely nude Brock Rumlow came around the corner. He was whistling. “Cap,” he said.

“Rumlow,” Steve said, sighing and looking at the ceiling. “How’s Darcy?” he asked politely.

“Extraordinarily well,” Rumlow said, sounding a little strange to Steve. Not that Steve would question it. He only exhaled when Rumlow casually strolled away. Still naked.

 

In the shadows of the gym, Loki gently prodded one of Steve’s slightly-deflated punching bags and grinned to himself. “What a dreadful-looking hobby,” he said out loud, then disappeared.

 

***

It turned out Brock was right: Angela _did_ like her. Darcy picked up on it when she ordered two kinds of appetizers--she finally had an appetite--and Angela announced, “oh, I like her! She’s not weird about food.”

“Ma, I’m not weird about food, I’m just in shape,” Brock said.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said. “He eats like a carnivorous squirrel. It’s all steak, nuts, and leaves.” She remembered from New Mexico.

“She knows you!” Angela said. “You keep her, if she knows you’re like this and still wants to be with you. She’s young!”

“Yes, Ma,” Brock said obediently. He squeezed Darcy's knee under the table.

 

“You won’t eat this, right? I’m taking yours,” Darcy announced, when the appetizers came to the table. They were fried. Darcy looked at Angela. “This is the bonus of dating a carnivorous squirrel, I get the food that actually tastes good,” she told Brock’s mother.

“Oh, that’s smart, honey, very clever,” Angela said, beaming. Fallon winked at Brock.

“Told you,” he whispered to Darcy, when she stole his shrimp oreganata. “She thinks you’re great.”

“Makes a change from my ex,” Darcy said. “His mother hated me.”

“She was British, she probably hates everyone who isn’t the Queen or paler than milk,” Brock said.

“Babe, not helping, I’m paler than milk,” Darcy said. “Whhhhyyyyyyy, whyyyyyyyyyy, didn’t she like me?” Darcy said, doing her best Nancy Kerrigan. Brock shook his head. He was used to this. He loved this.

“Because I have all the good luck,” he said sincerely, kissing her forehead.

“Awwwwww, the yutz has feelings!” Fal said.

“Shut up, Fal.”

“Did your sister tell you about the East Side Strangler who is your friend?” Angela asked.

“The what?” Brock said.

“Babe, you didn’t tell me you had a prison pen pal, too. I have Loki. From Asgard?” Darcy said.

“Ooooh,” Fal and Angela said in unison. “That’s who it was!” Angela said. “I told your sister it had to be someone like that--”

“You didn’t want me to open the door!” Fal said. “You thought I was going to be murdered, you lying liar.”

“I did not lie,” Angela said. “You’re calling me a liar? I gave birth to you! Seventeen hours without drugs!”

“Which you never let me forget--” Fallon began.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Brock asked Darcy.

“Do you not remember what Jane was like before coffee?” she asked him.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Yeah.” He winced. “That was bad, real bad,” Brock said.

"Hey, Fal, tell me some fun dorm stories?" Darcy asked. "Jane's set fire to several labs, but Brock said you actually had someone light up a slurpee machine?"

"It was rented!" Fal said. "It wasn't even the university's slurpee machine."

 

When Angela went to the bathroom, Darcy asked Fallon about her favorite tarot decks. “Brock just got me the Housewives Tarot,” Darcy said. “I can’t resist funny decks.”

“Oh my God, you got her a deck, Bro-Bro? He got you a deck?” Fal said, shocked.

“It’s not a big deal,” Brock said defensively. “It’s one of her things.”

“You’re it! She’s it,” Fal said, mouth open in shock, as she pointed at each of them in turn. “She’s the reason for your tarot-phobia.”

“I don’t have tarot-phobia,” Brock grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Darcy said. “He let me read his cards yesterday. Babe, you don’t really hate them, do you?”

“Of course not,” Brock said. “They’re fine.”

“They’re fine now. He had a total new age complex and it’s because he spent years pining after you. Whenever I took my decks out, he would leave the room!”

“I did not,” Brock insisted.

“Did he leave the room if there were waffle fries, because that was also my thing? Maybe even more my thing, actually,” Darcy said teasingly. Fallon dissolved into laughter.

“Shhh,” Brock said, “Ma’s coming back, be quiet.”

  
-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the *most* fun with this one! Thanks for all your comments and kudos. Y'all are fantastic!


End file.
